How I Learned to Laugh
by moonlighttrail
Summary: Two-Bit Mathews is recounting his memoir to his grandson, Danny as part of a school project. Sit at the feet of the Master Storyteller himself and learn what all went into the making of him.
1. Chapter 1

Somewhere outside of Tulsa, 2017…

" _You know what you're asking, Boy?"_

" _Sure, Gramps, I just need you to help me out with this journalism project. You tell me your story, and I buy you a couple burgers and clean up around this place for you."_

" _It takes a school project for you to come around and pay attention to me? 'Sides, the house is clean enough."_

" _Aw, come on Grandpa. There's stacks of newspapers in the basement from the '80s! Pretty sure there's some food in the back of that fridge that's older than I am too."_

" _Hey, Wiseass, if you play your cards right, I'll leave those papers to you when I kick it and you can sell 'em off to a museum or a collector or something one day. Could make you a bundle."_

" _You gonna tell me your story or not?"_

" _When is this project of yours due?"_

" _Day after tomorrow."_

" _Christ, Danny. You are one of mine, aren't you?"_

" _That's what they tell me, Sir."_

" _Since when the hell do you 'Sir' me? Sit your smart ass down and you'll get your story. How old are you now, anyway?"_

" _Seventeen."_

" _That's right. You were almost one of them Y2K babies. Your momma was convinced you were going to usher in the Apocalypse. You made her miserable while she was carrying you. Well, I guess you're old enough to hear this. Get comfortable, 'cause it ain't a short story. I've had seventy years to build it. If I'm taking the time to tell it, you're getting the whole damn thing. You ready?"_

" _Hold on a minute. You got a pencil and paper?"_

" _You come here for an interview and you don't have a pencil? What about that computer of yours? I thought you and that thing were attached at the fingertips like some damn cyborg or something."_

" _It's dead. Forgot to charge it and left the charger at school. You don't have a charger, do you?"_

" _Do I look like I have one of those? How'd you even remember your pants this morning? Try the last drawer in the kitchen, there might be a pencil in there. Might be some paper or a notebook or something in the back bedroom. Be quick about it, 'cause you don't want to miss the prologue."_

It was late at night on June 5, 1947. Your great-grandma had been laboring for over twenty hours to bring me into this here world. I made my grand appearance screaming like a wildcat. Figure I'll probably leave the same way eventually. Now, that Doc took one look at my ugly mug and loud mouth and started laughing. Been keeping people in stitches ever since...

* * *

Chapter 1 - Learn Your History, Boy

First thing you gotta know about your family, Danny, is its history. Might seem boring, but it helps you make sense of the rest of it. With that in mind, we're going back a bit before I was even born. Now, your great-grandaddy Ted named me after his daddy. I never met the man, but Momma said he was a right mean sonofabitch. You know, if you're turning this into school, you'll probably need to do some creative editing. Don't think they'll appreciate the amount of cussin' that's going to appear in the telling of this story. And I don't want your Momma in my door and up my backside because you landed yourself in detention again. Well anyway, back to your Great-Grandpa Mauer… You know that's my real name, right? Mathews is just an adopted name from my stepdaddy, but we'll get to that later. Mauer… ain't that a pretentious name? It even sounds rich. I guess it fits though. My daddy came from money, sure enough, but he took one look at Momma waiting tables at the country club the summer she turned sixteen, and well, that was that.

Momma came from a poor mining family back east. They were hit hard by a couple wars and The Depression. I guess that's what gave her all her grit. It's a shame you never met your great- grandma; she was one hell of a woman. Anyway, Ted Mauer saw her waiting tables and whisked her off her feet in a summer of torrid romance. He was 21, rich, dashing, and she thought he'd carry her off into the sunset and into his world of country clubs, champagne, and fancy dresses. At that point, I think he really would have too, and Momma would have taken to it like a duck to water. Your great-grandma may have been dirt poor, but she was a real classy lady. Too bad she never got the chance to show it.

Now's the part where you meet that sonofabitch great-great-grandfather of yours, Keith Mauer. He was a rich factory owner from Kentucky. Produced a lot of army goods I think, so all them world wars were good to the Mauers. Well, Ted brought Momma home and introduced her to dear old Grandpappy. She'd dressed up in her Sunday best and even spared a bit of her hard earned money for a hair salon visit. Wanted to make a good impression. Keith took one look at her and told Ted to send the 'coal-dusted, food-slinging hussy' on her way. Only he didn't say hussy; he used another word that I don't even like sayin'. Momma never could forget that. When she told me the story, she made sure and told me his exact words. She said if I ever called a woman that or treated her even a fraction as poorly, she'd flay my poor self to an inch from death, let me heal, and do it all over again. Bastard even offered to pay the cab fare for her. Can you imagine? Now you see why I don't like goin' by Keith.

Well, Ted still had a spine at that time, so he told his daddy to go straight to Hell and walked out with Momma. His parents tried to bribe him to come back a few times, but he wasn't such a bad guy yet, and Momma had him smitten. Once they realized he wasn't coming back, they cut him off completely, and he never saw another cent from them. He stuck it out, and a few weeks later they were at the church altar in front of the preacher sayin' 'I do'. Then I came along 7 months later. They swore up and down that I was a honeymoon baby and I just came early, but I'll leave you to put together those pieces.

Now Momma and Ted were poorer than the poorest church mice. You see, growing up rich and all, Ted didn't have a lot of skills. He and Momma went around working odd jobs scrounging up what they could. About a year in, they moved out here chasing a job Ted thought he had. Momma kept waiting tables and taking in laundry on the side. To hear her tell it, I spent most of my infancy in a laundry basket while she worked. I guess there's worse places to keep a kid. I'm alive, ain't I?

They were worked to the bone, but they were happy. To hear them talk, they were living the white picket fence American Dream then. But Ted never could make enough money to keep Momma as comfortable as he'd have liked to, and I think he felt guilty. Well, a few year later, South Korea called up Harry Truman and asked for some help to defend against all of the North Korean commies. In 1952, Ted realized he'd make better money in the Army than the odd jobs he was able to pick up here, so he signed up to ship out. Didn't even talk with Momma about it first, he just did it. I would've been about five then.

I didn't really know what was goin' on at the time. I do remember a lot of yelling going on at night when they thought I was asleep. Might have even heard a few dishes being broken. Looking back, I'd guess Momma was pretty pissed at him for not even running an idea like that by her. Come next morning though, she was always back with a smile on her face acting pleasant as pie. I think that's all it was though, an act for my sake. A few weeks later, we were all at the bus station sending Ted off to Basic. He knelt down to me, hugged me, and told me about all the adventures he was going to have. Being the adventurous tyke I was, I asked if I could go with him. I thought it'd be a lot like Cowboys and Indians, and some real good fun. I was only five; I had no idea what war was or that Korea was any different from Tripp Street two blocks over from our house. He laughed and told me I'd be bored. Told me that a real man belonged at home taking care of his woman, and that was my job now. Momma gave a snort at that. At the time, I thought she'd choked on her chewing gum. Now I realize that she was laughing indignantly at the truth of what Ted had just said. Told you she was pissed at him. She did send him off with a real steamy kiss though. In case you didn't know this, Boy, the people you love the most can make you angrier and crazier than anyone else could ever dream of. It was definitely that way with Momma and Ted.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - The Rattler

The year Ted was gone, things were actually pretty good. The money he was able to send back helped out, and Momma didn't have to work so much. She was relaxed and we even had time for some fun like the park and the occasional float at the soda shop. If you look back at the pictures taken of her that year, she even looked younger. Well, most of the time she looked younger. There was one time in particular that I remember her looking about sixty-nine rather than her twenty-three years.

One night, I got out of bed for a drink and found her at the kitchen table peeling carrots with bloodshot, wet eyes. The peel was coming off alright, but so was about half of each carrot. I don't know how she didn't take some of her fingers off too. That's the first time I remember seeing my Momma that upset. She hid it too well so it didn't become my problem. I went up to her, crawled in her lap, and I asked her why she was sad, and she said, "I'm okay, Baby; I'm just missing your daddy, that's all. He hasn't sent us a letter in a while." No little boy likes to see his momma sad, so I did the only thing I could think of; I tried to make her smile. I literally smooshed her face into some weird pseudo-smile while I made my own silly faces. I don't care who you are or how upset, some little kid comes up acting the goof smooshing your face all up, the smile becomes real enough pretty quick. It worked on Momma, and soon enough she was laughing through her tears.

"You want to make silly faces, Mister? Well try this one on."

She laid me down and cradled me like a baby, took strips of the cold carrot peel and set them on my lip and curled them up to look like an old-timey silent movie villain.

"There. Now how about an evil laugh? Do you think you got one in you?"

I tried. Don't think it was very good, but she was laughing and that was enough for me. Her eyes were still red, but not quite as red or wet as they were before. Then I ate the peel strips right off my face because, well, why not? Which got her laughing even more as she tried to scold me.

"Keith, those ain't even washed. Oh, what the heck, I guess it's not going ta hurt you too bad. I'm pretty sure you've eaten plenty of mud pies and drank plenty of puddle Cokes, so some unwashed carrot ain't going ta make too much of a difference." Then she whisked me back off to bed. I saw her cry a few more times that year, but in the scheme of things, it was a good year. Better than the ones to follow anyway.

At the end of that year, Ted came home. First few weeks were good, at least from what I saw. Daddy was back and brought me my first pocket knife. He said it came off the first North Korean he smoked. More than likely, it was from the airport shop or he won it in some poker game or other. I still thought it was cool though. Momma didn't share my opinion. She made me put it away. Said I could have it back when I was eight. Don't give me that look, Danny. They don't even let you have a sharp kitchen knife until you get your driver's license nowadays. Nonsense, I say. I've been using knives since I was little and only stabbed myself three times. Only needed stitches for two of 'em.

Well anyway, Ted was back and things were calm for a little while. But within a few months, things started changing. He still hadn't found a job, but he was rarely home. When he did come home, he acted funny. Some days he was happy and exuberant and others he was meaner than a cornered rattler. The happy days weren't so bad. In fact, I thought they were kind of fun. He'd let me do all sorts of crazy things. One of those days, he decided to teach me hand-to-hand combat. I thought it was the best! Then he started getting rougher and rougher and there was an almost manic gleam in his eyes. I was only six at the time. Eventually, he went too far and broke one of my ribs. I started to cry because damn it hurt, but he just told me to soldier up. Real men didn't cry over a bruise. Then he stalked off for awhile.

That night as Momma was putting me to bed, she saw my side all bruised up. She asked what happened and pressed around a bit. Her face was smiling as she wrapped me all up, but her eyes were scary. They were a deadly storm of stifled tears and pure anger. She kissed me and tucked me into bed promising me she'd be back with something to help me sleep. A minute later, I heard the kitchen cupboard slam, but she never came back in.

Ted came back in a little while later, and I was still awake. I hurt too bad to sleep easy. Momma launched straight into him.

"You bastard! Where have you been?"

"Ain't none of your business, Rosie. I'm home now, so stop complaining."

"Do you have any idea what you've done? You hurt your own son!"

"I was just teachin' him to wrestle. It's my job to toughen him up. Now don't you be tellin' me how to raise my own boy. Can't raise him soft; a few bruises is nothin'."

"You son of bitch. Don't you realize you broke his ribs?"

Ted was in one of his rattler phases, and Momma had him cornered.

"What are you talkin' 'bout, Woman? It's just a few bruises."

"I felt the breaks! And I can't even take him to the hospital because we don't have the cash, Ted, 'cause you can't get a job!" Her voice was raising. Daring him to come up with an explanation.

"I can get a fuckin' job, Rosie, there just ain't none 'round to get. You know that, so get off my back for Christ's sake."

"Don't you use the Lord's name in vain. Not in this house, drunk or not. And there are jobs. Mace's has been hiring, but I guess they don't want a drunk and a junkie even to stock shelves."

"Who says I'm drunk? And stocking shelves? That's a job for a boy. You can't expect me to lower myself, Rosie."

"I damn well can! When we're in danger of losing the roof over our head, yes, Ted, lower yourself to the fucking floor and grovel. If it means keeping food in your boy's belly, beg, borrow, steal…"

"So drunk is out, but thieving is in?"

"That's not what I meant! Be a man, Ted! Step up and take care of your family, you low-life, good-for-nothing…"

 _Smack_

Then the door slammed, and I heard Momma sobbing for a good long while.

She came in later when she'd stopped heaving and sat on my bed. I pretended to be asleep. Even at only six, I didn't think she'd want to see me to see her like that. This was different than last time. Last time she was sad; this time she was broken. The next morning, I woke up to the smell of pancakes. I walked into the kitchen and I could barely tell last night had happened. The only signs were no Ted and a slight pink puffiness on her left cheek. She'd done a bang up job of covering it up with her powder. The rattler had bit her, but she'd bit him back good.

I can see the look on your face, Boy, the anger. That's good. Drug's ain't anything to mess around with. They can turn what used to be a decent guy into a monster. Now I've done my share of bad and stupid things, but drugs were never one of them. The drinking...well... that's another story you'll get later. But hard drugs, never.

Ted was on amphetamines. You'd probably call it speed. He picked it up in Korea. You see, it was getting big with the soldiers. Your senses were sharper and you could stay awake longer and you felt stronger. Valuable assets in a war zone, but they didn't tell them one important thing: they're addictive as hell. Just because you came home, didn't mean you left that monster back in Korea. I don't think Ted was the only casualty. The amphetamines were his happy, crazy days. The rattler days were when he was comin' down off those and switching over to booze. One or the other is bad. Together they were just about as bad as an atom bomb.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 - His One Talent

With Ted gone, Momma and I had to leave the house. She couldn't keep up with the rent anymore. We moved into a little one bedroom apartment above a hair salon in the middle of town. Not exactly the Ritz, but the roof didn't leak and it had all the basics. Momma did as well as she could. She cleaned the salon in exchange for part of the rent and picked up work at the bar a few doors down. Your great-grandma really was a looker, so the tips were good there even if she had to paint herself up and tease her hair too high. She didn't like it, but that's what kept us going.

When she was ready, she'd walk me across the hall to Mrs. Heil's apartment. I'd stay with her most nights while Momma was working. Mrs. Heil's daughter owned the salon and the apartments above it, and I think she'd lived in that apartment for decades. She was as much a part of it as the carpet and wallpaper. Now Old Lady Heil was a tough old bird somewhere between 60 and 100 and weighed every ounce of 400 pounds. Even if she wanted to leave her apartment, I'm not sure she even could. Come to think of it, I'm not sure if I ever saw her out of her easy chair.

Every evening, she'd be sitting in her easy chair watching the television with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other while she watched her shows. Mostly I'd be left to my own devices playing on the floor in the family room. The only time she paid much attention to me was if I made too much noise. Then watch out! That old broad's palm could find the back of my head quicker than a starving tick jumps on a passing mutt. I'd shut up real quick, at least for awhile, and watch.

I found out you get to know a lot about people from watching television. Sure, a lot of it's made up, but you gotta figure the writers get it from somewhere. You get to learn how people work if you really watch. You learn what makes them laugh, what makes them cry, what makes them mad… What they'll believe.

I guess you could even say T.V. was my education. It sure as hell wasn't school. I still can't read and write for shit really. I tried, believe me. All through first grade I tried, but after so many times of trying and those words still keep swimming on the page in front of you and doin' somersaults and everything… well… sometimes you just gotta know when to quit. In fact, the only reason I kept going to school, aside from Momma and the State, was the people.

It was also in first grade that I really got introduced to the fairer sex. Girls, Danny. I tell you, those creatures have landed me in more hot water than a fat lobster. Belle Jordan was the first. Cute little blond girl. Wore a lot of little floral dresses, Mary Jane shoes, and liked her hair in two braids hanging down her back. Well, she was cute as a doll and way outta my league, but I was pretty ambitious and wanted to impress her anyway. I snuck the knife Ted had given me out of the house right under Momma's nose and took it to school for show-and-tell. No one else had a knife that I knew of. I thought it'd show her what a real man I was.

Needless to say, that plan didn't go over so well. I launched into a story about how my daddy had gutted hundreds of Koreans with that knife. I was bouncing all over that classroom and nearly sent Mrs. Pradle to the hospital with a gut wound of her own when she tried to stop me and take the knife. I didn't mean to of course; I was just caught up in the dramatics of it all. I was dodging artillery, dropping into bunkers, knifing enemy sentries… Having the time of my life really. I definitely had Belle's attention, that's for sure.

Well, eventually Mrs. Pradle got me and hauled me down to the principal's office. I still didn't know what I did wrong though. No one got hurt, and the class seemed to enjoy my story. Then Momma showed up. If I thought the principal was bad, he was nothing compared to the blazing fires of Rose Mauer's anger. She gave me the chewing out of a lifetime going on about how I'd been sneaky and disobedient to take that knife when I knew full well that I wasn't allowed it yet. And then I dared take it to school! How did she ever land up with such a son? After we walked home, she'd calmed down enough. She put me over her lap and tanned my backside good. My ass was redder than a sunburned tomato when she was finished. She cried the whole time and told me to remember this the next time I was tempted to do something so disobedient and damned stupid. Then she hugged me and made me a sandwich.

That was just the beginning. I was hard on Momma. Gave her more grief than I had a right to, but I guess we all live with regrets. Momma's biggest regret was Ted. He left that one night, but he came back about a year later knocking on the door. Momma opened it and there he stood clean cut, sober, and he'd even dug up a halfway decent suit from somewhere. He asked real sweet if he could see me. Momma tried to tell him where he could go, but then real calm and sincerely, he said that he had a right and he'd take it to court if he had to.

Once again, the first few weeks were real good. He had a decent job on the other side of town as a bank man. Said he was gonna prove that he was good enough to be back. Momma even let him back into her bed after a while and I got kicked out to the couch. What we didn't know about Ted was how good of a Poker Face he had. I don't think your great grandma even knew how good he could bluff. That was Ted's one talent. Only problem is that he could only use it once and had to move on soon as people got wise. He took a big risk coming back to us.

Everything he told Momma and me was a lie. He didn't even have a real job, yet he got dressed every morning and drove across town and came back by 6:00 for dinner. It took a couple months, but one day I stumbled across his true colors. It was the beginning of second grade, and I was already tired of schoolwork, so I decided missing one day wasn't gonna hurt anything too bad. Momma dropped me off at school, but I doubled back and hid in the floorboard of Ted's car. I thought it'd be fun to surprise him and see where he worked. You ever heard the phrase "curiosity killed the cat", Danny? Well, it damn near killed me.

When we pulled up, it was obvious it wasn't a bank. My curiosity was piqued, so I waited til Ted went inside, and then I went exploring. It was a nondescript brick storage building. I walked around and found an open window, dragged over a bunch of crates and boxes from the alley, climbed up top, and slipped in the window. I snuck around for awhile and didn't find much interesting, just an empty hallway, a couple office rooms, and a bathroom. I definitely made use of that while I was there. Then I turned the corner.

The hallway opened up into a larger warehouse type room. Ted was there on the far side of the room talking to a couple workers. Now it wasn't a large operation, not a bad design really. Easy to cut and run if you heard the cops were coming. You see, Ted had found himself part of a pretty decent counterfeit ring. He was the respectable face who peddled the phony cash around. People don't expect a clean, upstanding guy to be slinging fakes, but if you go in a place looking rough they don't trust you on principle. No telling how many people Ted scammed like that. He was a charmer to be sure. One look at his smile while he asked you to change a 10, and not many people would bother actually looking at the bill.

Anyway, I was so busy watching everything and listening to them I forgot to be sneaky. One of the guys looked across and saw my rusty noggin poking out from the doorway and tapped Ted on the shoulder. Then Ted glanced across and came over to me like a storm and whipped me up in nothing flat. He high-tailed it out to the car and dumped me in the backseat.

"What in the hell are you doing here, Boy? Didn't your momma drop you off at school?"

"Yeah. Didn't wanna stay. I wanted to come to work with you."

"I can see that, Keith. Hell, Boy, didn't it ever occur in that crazy head of yours that if you have to sneak to do it, you probably shouldn't be doing it? What did you hear in there, anyway?"

"Just a bunch of stuff about cash, phonies, and bat-eyed broads who'd fall for anything."

"Shit, I bet you did. I'll tell you what, Son, you keep your trap shut and I'll get you another knife. A brand new one your momma doesn't even know about. It'll be our little secret. How does that sound?"

I just nodded my head and bounced in my seat.

"Good, good, good. I guess that takes care of that then."

Ted was getting pretty twitchy. Then he reached over to the glove compartment and fiddled around for a minute. He tossed back something. He was still on the amphetamines; he'd just gotten better about hiding it apparently.

"Alright, Keith. I've gotta take you home, but how does an ice cream sound on the way?"

We stopped by the soda shop and had a banana split. While we were there, he started talking faster and more feverishly. Huh, if he'd thought about it, maybe a Poker Face wasn't his only talent. He'd have made a damn good auctioneer when he was amped up like that. We left and finished the trip home. His driving was fast and erratic, but we made it. Ted dumped me in front of the salon with a 'Good luck explaining this to your momma', and sped off wildly. That was what he did every day. He would spend the day amped and then sober up and make it home in time for dinner. I hadn't changed his schedule at all, just delayed it a little.

I crept upstairs thinking about the last whipping Momma gave me and not looking forward to the one that was sure to come when she found out I skipped out on school. Then I remember thinking, 'Well, Keith, what if she doesn't find out?' If I kept Daddy's secret, he'd cover for me. I got up to the door and opened it. Momma came out of the bedroom in her slip.

"What on Earth are you doing home?"

"Well Momma..." I started, and then I launched into the wildest tale of fire alarms, mentally unstable teachers, and heroic firemen. She just stood there listening until I was done.

"For a boy no bigger than a bit coin, you sure have a lot to say, don't you, Young Man?"

"Yeah, Momma, I got two bits!" I smiled at her trying to imitate Ted. Hey, if it worked on all the other ladies that my daddy talked about, maybe it would work on Momma. Spoiler, Danny, it didn't. I didn't have enough practice yet.

"You sure do, but I don't buy a word of it. Now where have you and your daddy been. I saw him drop you on the curb from the window. Out with it, and I want the truth this time. No two-bit's worth, just the facts."

"Yes, Ma'am."

I told her the whole story. No embellishment this time; I kept it short and sweet. She reacted very little, just asking the occasional clarifying question. When I finished, she calmly ordered me to bed, her face tight.

"But Momma…"

"No Keith. No dinner. I don't want to see you til morning. You'll be bored out of your mind and hungry, but you'll survive."

"But what about work?"

"No more buts! You let me worry about that. Now off to bed unless you want to go fetch one of your daddy's belts."

"If I get a whippin', will I get dinner, Momma?"

She just groaned in frustration, hoisted me up, and dropped me in the bedroom and closed the door.

A few hours later as I was chasing a fly around for entertainment, I heard a knock at the door. I snuck to the door and inched it open. Momma answered it and there were two policemen. They were too quiet for me to hear and she didn't give much of a reaction to what they were saying. The only visible sign was she crunched her stomach in and used the door to lean on. Her face stayed impassive.

You see, Danny, that was the day Ted died. He was back on the amphetamines and wild. If the speed didn't kill him, I'm sure his new hobby of money laundering would have eventually. He got to a turn in the road and that was it for him. Misjudged it going too fast and flipped his car right over and it took him instantly. If he hadn't dropped me off at home when he did, I'd have been thrown out of that Chevrolet just like him. Momma and I never talked about it much, but she did tell me that she always expected it. "Men like Ted aren't easy in this world, so they usually don't stay long," she said. "I tried to make him fit into a world he wasn't prepared for, and he just couldn't make it." Even though Ted was an adult who made his own choices, Momma felt guilty, and it changed her. She was the reason he left the life he was raised for.

 _AN: Thank you for bearing with me through Two-Bit's history. He'll start taking a more central role soon as he grows up. Also, the gang members will start to trickle in shortly!_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - Stepfathers and Shenanigans

The next few months were hard. Momma had to keep going even though you could tell she didn't want to. I didn't make it any easier for her either. Nearly every day, my teacher or the principal was calling her in or sending notes home. Finally, one day we were walking home after she'd picked me up from the principal's office for hijacking the school intercom and telling jokes, and she stopped me dead. She got down on her knees, nylons and all right in the middle of the sidewalk across from the market. Holding my face in her hand with that mixture of exasperation, fatigue, and love that only mothers can get, she said straight, "Things have got to change, Keith. We can't keep doing life like this. You need a man around the house to keep you from running so wild, and that's what you're going to get. I guess it's about time you knew, but I'm getting married. His name's Frank. What do you think about that?"

Well, I definitely knew what I was thinking, and it was a solid 'no'. I tried to bring her around.

"Aww, Momma, you don't have to do that. I'll be good, I promise. No more shindanigans."

I then proceeded to lay out all of the other things I wouldn't do and painted a damn good, if unrealistic, picture of what our new and improved life would look like without the impending "Frank".

"It's 'shenanigans', Keith. And no matter how much you protest or try to sell me on an Frankless future, it's still happening. Even mommas need someone to take care of them sometimes."

"I'll take care of you, Momma. I'll help you clean up around the house and everything!"

She laughed and kissed me on the forehead.

"I'll hold you to that, my beautiful boy. But I'm afraid it's still happening. Besides, pretty soon it's not just the two of us that are going to need looking after. You want to know a secret? I'm gonna have a baby. Now how does that sound?"

"Sounds better than Frank," I replied, "You sure 'bout this, Momma?"

"I think so," she answered as she stood up and we continued our walk back home. Her face was sure, but her eyes weren't. She looked more like a kamikaze pilot than a soon-to-be bride and mother.

I didn't even meet Frank until the wedding a few days later. He was a short run truck driver, so he was gone for a few days at a time on deliveries. The wedding was a quick courthouse affair, but it did get me out of school. Momma introduced me to Frank as we were all waiting in line for the judge. He just looked me up and down, grunted, and said, "So this is the little runt who's been giving you so much grief, Rose? Scrappy little thing, ain't he?"

That was about all he said to me that day. Well, except for the under-the-breath threat that if I made a peep during the officials, I wouldn't sit for a week. That, Danny, was my introduction to my step-father, Frank Mathews. Cuddly sort, wasn't he?

Frank was one of Momma's regulars down at the bar when he was in town. He'd been trying to work on her for over a year, even when Ted was back with us. Momma finally gave in. Fear and loneliness will make you do things you never thought. He was way beneath the sort of guy she could have gotten, but he was available and she was desperate. One boy fast on his way to the juvenile detention center, another baby on the way, and a dead, junkie husband who'd left her nothing but trouble. To say it was a marriage of convenience would be an understatement. More a marriage of desperation.

After the courthouse, we went back to the apartment and packed everything up. Not that there was much. We piled it into Frank's old Ford and headed to our new place on the east side. Well, new to us at least. At least this place had two bedrooms. If I had to describe that place in a word, it would be a banana. Everything was peeling. Yeah, I know that was bad, Danny, but humor me. The wallpaper, the paint, the linoleum… everything. Momma's face fell for only a split second before her jaw set and she walked straight back out to the car. I thought she'd changed her mind and we'd dump Frank and life would go back to the way it was. I was pretty stupid back then. Once my Momma set her mind to something, it happened. She came back in a minute later with a broom and an old rag. She threw me the rag.

"Get it damp and wipe down every surface you can reach. I got the floors. Pick that chin up and get to work."

"But, Momma…"

"You sassin' your Momma boy? One more word and you won't be able to sass her no more. Now shut up and get busy."

Even Ted had never threatened me like that, not even on his worst days. Not seriously anyway. But even at the age of 8 I could tell Frank meant it. I looked over his shoulder to Momma and she just gave me a look that said 'no questions' and then she looked down at the floor and started sweeping.

We settled into a routine pretty quickly. On the days Frank was on a run, Momma and me went pretty much back to normal. When he was home, I learned to make myself scarce. I couldn't do anything right by him. He never wanted me. He only put up with me because he wanted Momma. Within a few weeks, I had my new neighborhood mapped. Ms. Trent was alright. She was usually good for a cookie or two. But old Mr. Gorse was a different story. You got within 10 feet of his yard and he'd start taking pot shots at you with his BB rifle. At least I think it was BBs.

My favorite place was one block over at the Curtis house. Yep, those Curtises. You've met them before I think. I was dodging Old Mr. Gorse's pot shots one day and flipped myself over the nearest fence. Lo and behold, I landed on something softish but pokey and got a knee in my stomach. Then before I knew what was happening, I got yanked backward straight onto my ass. Once I gathered my senses, I looked up to see a dark-headed boy a couple years older than me. A smaller, blondish boy was picking himself up a few feet away. He must have been the thing I'd landed on when I'd scrambled over the fence.

"Who the hell are you?" the older boy demanded, "And what do you think you're doing sneaking into our yard?"

"Darry, Ma hears you cursin' like that and your backside is gonna be red for a week. 'Sides, I'm fine. He didn't hurt nothin'. And it's not exactly like we was sneakin'. Crashin's more like it."

By then the smaller boy had picked himself up and came over to offer me a hand.

"You're new around here, aren't you? Most of us around here know how to get around Old Gorse. Know what we call him? Mr. Gross. And as far as names go, that's my brother Darry, he's ten, and I'm Sodapop. We got another brother inside, but he's just a little kid. His name's Ponyboy. What's your name?"

"Geez, ya'll got some strange names. Yeah, I'm pretty new. We moved in about a month ago. My name is…" I paused for a second. I figured everyone around here must have weird names, so when in Rome… "My name is Two-Bit." It was the first thing that came to mind.

"No it ain't," the one called Darry accused, "What's your real name?"

I was not making a good first impression with that one, but Sodapop stepped in again.

"With me and Ponyboy as your brothers, you shouldn't be questionin' anyone else. 'Sides, maybe he just doesn't want to tell us. What's it matter anyway? Hey, Two-Bit, you wanna get back at Old Gross? He's real fun to mess with if you know how to do it."

I agreed pretty quickly. The old man deserved anything we could give him and it sounded fun. Sodapop seemed like he was down for a good laugh or two, so he seemed alright in my book. Darry I wasn't so sure about.

"You in, Darry?" Sodapop asked.

"I ain't so sure, Soda," he hesitated, "You know how much trouble we got in last time. My hands are still sore from all the scrubbin' I had to do."

Soda dared him with a smile. "You sure you ain't just a chicken? 'Sides, we're smarter now. That was weeks ago!"

"I ain't a chicken you little piece of trash," Darry responded and headlocked his little brother. They wrestled for a bit and then Darry sat up. "Alright, let's go."

We climbed back over the fence into Mr. Gorse's back yard.

"What are we gonna do?" I asked.

"Shhh… Don't get us caught," Darry whispered back, "Just follow us."

We snuck up to his back door and straight into his kitchen.

"Soda, get the front door," Darry commanded, "Kid, go and make sure the bedroom windows are all closed."

Then I caught onto what we were doing. We were locking the old man out of his own house. We all met back in the kitchen.

Darry and Soda slid out of the partially open kitchen window above the sink, and I guess they expected me to follow. But right before I climbed out, a half-eaten strawberry-rhubarb pie on the counter caught my eye. I grabbed it off the counter and stuck my head out the window.

"Catch!" I whispered and dropped it and then followed it out.

We climbed back over the fence and dropped down into the Curtises back yard.

"You're crazy!" Soda congratulated me with a winning grin. "Darry and me've never taken anything before. I guess we'd better go inside and grab some forks to get rid of the evidence."

"Don't need to," I said as I pulled out a couple forks from my pocket that I'd also knicked.

Darry even started laughing at that as he took one.

"You're alright, Two-Bit. But you're the one gonna put 'em all back later. Good luck!"

Whenever Frank was home, I started spending most of my time at the Curtis house. Mrs. Curtis was a lot like my Momma should've been if she didn't have so much trouble in her life. She didn't mess around, but she was good to bandage up a scrape and there was usually something good on the stove or in the icebox. Mr. Curtis wasn't around too much since he worked long hours, but when he was, he'd usually include me in the football games or whatever he was doing with Darry and Sodapop.

After a few more months, my life changed again. Momma went into the hospital for a few days and then came home with your Great Aunt Lillian. Lily for short.

She was a firecracker from the start. She'd scream at all hours of the night and I'd had it, so one night I left. I climbed into Darry's window and woke him up.

"What the hell, Two-Bit!" he startled all fuzzy-headed and bleary eyed.

"Can't sleep," I said, "Can I stay here? That baby's a nightmare. Whoever said little sisters are fun lied. If she wasn't so little I'd hit her with a pillow. Seems to work with Ponyboy."

"It'll be okay after a while. Pony did the same thing when he was that little."

"So can I stay?"

"I guess. Get in," he invited.

"Thanks, Darry," I said. After a few kicks and shoves we got settled.

I was woken up the next morning with the blinds whipped open and the covers yanked down by a formidable Mrs. Curtis in curlers.

"That's what I thought. Up young man, your Momma is beside herself. Time to go home."

That wasn't the last time I ended up climbing through Darry's window, but I learned to leave a note on the counter before I left my house so Momma didn't worry. It's not often a person finds such good friends that stand the test of time, but the Curtis brothers were probably the only thing that eventually kept me from doin' real hard time later on. If you are lucky enough to find friends like that, Danny, keep 'em around.


	5. Chapter 5

Ch. 5 - Three Boys and a Baby

Turns out Darry was right. After a while, Lily stopped crying so much and she was kinda cute. Momma usually put me in charge of her so she could get some work done around the house or when she had to work. Frank hadn't kept his end of the bargain so well, so Momma had to go back to work at the bar so they could make ends meet. That left Lily and me home by ourselves a lot of nights. Momma left me with two strict instructions. One: Don't set a toe out the door unless the house is on fire. Two: Don't touch the stove so you don't set the house on fire.

Well, I'm proud to say, Danny, that I did not set the house on fire. If I had, I'd have jumped in. I'd have been better off burnt to a piece of charcoal than alive to see what punishment I'd have gotten. I do have to say that some evenings when Frank was out cold in his chair in the living room I thought about it. At least we could have cashed in some of the insurance money. Might've bought us a nice little place down off the Florida coast. Come on, Danny, don't look at me like that. Geez, Kid, I'm only joking! I'm not actually a homicidal maniac despite what your grandma might say.

Well anyway, most evenings Lily and I just hung around not doing much. If Frank wasn't home we'd watch some television. If he was, we'd usually stay in our bedroom. She couldn't play much for the first few years, but she did love a good story. That's what I'd do to calm her down or entertain her. She'd just watch me even before she could understand what I was sayin'. Her favorite was The Army Man and the Exploding Cat. I'm quite proud of that one. Naw, I ain't gonna tell it. I'm too old now to do it justice, so you'll just have to use your imagination.

One afternoon, Momma was working and Frank was on a run. It was too hot and stuffy to stay inside since it was the dead middle of summer, so I took Lily and we went to meet up with the Curtises. They were out in the empty lot by their house jumping around like a set of monkeys.

"What're y'all doin'?" I shouted as we got pretty close.

Sodapop stopped and yelled back, "We're makin' an obstacle course. What else does it look like? You gonna come race with us?"

They'd gathered up all sorts of junk around and the lot was looking more like a garbage dump than an empty housing lot: bottles, tires, spare wood. Looked like a perfect place for Tetanus and all sorts of other nasty stuff. But, to a 10 year old boy it looked like the best afternoon ever. Needless to say, I was all in.

"Stay here, Lily," I said as I sat her down under the maple in the lot and gave her the book and the doll I'd brought along. She was almost two at the time, so I should have known better. Two year olds don't listen and they do what they want.

Well, I jumped right on in and started hammering together some of the wood Darry was using to make a tower. And by tower, I mean a mostly upright structure. Soda was busy rolling around old tires and leapfrogging them until he got just the right pattern. Not a one of us was watching Lily. Looking back, I'm lucky she didn't walk in front of a damn car. After a while, I guess she got bored and came to find me. I was hanging from the tower swinging like a monkey and I heard a scream. I looked down to see Lily on the ground with a bloody face and a good chunk of wood on top of her. Darry was halfway down the tower by the time I even dropped to the ground.

"I didn't see her, Two-Bit! I swear I didn't, honest!"

He'd chucked a board he wasn't using from the top not looking and a nail from it had caught Lily right above her right eye. She wasn't hurt too bad, but head wounds always look worse, so she looked like that gal off Carrie and she was screaming bloody murder.

"Glory! Who knew a little kid could bleed so much?" Soda chimed in as he ran over to investigate, "What are you gonna do?"

"I'm going inside to get Ma," Darry said as he turned toward the house.

I grabbed him before he made it two steps, "No, you can't!"  
"Why not? She needs help. Ma's a good nurse. She's patched us up plenty."

"'Cause I ain't even supposed to be here. And if I ain't, Lily especially ain't. No, I gotta fix this."

I thought for a minute. We couldn't go get bandages from the Curtis house. Ms. Curtis would find out and then Momma would find out too. I didn't even know if there was anything at my house to use. I'm pretty sure I'd used the last of the bandages a few weeks back as a rope trying to climb the tree in our backyard. Then an idea came and I grabbed Lily and yelled back to the Curtises, "Come on!"

They followed and I led them a few blocks over to Mace's and ducked behind some bushes.

"Take her," I said as I shoved a still whimpering Lily at Darry.

"What the hell?" he said as he held her at arms length.

"Watch her. I'm goin' in to get some stuff."

"Why can't we all go in?"

"'Cause, Idiot, I ain't got any money for it."

Now Soda chimed in, "You gonna nick it?"

I nodded, "I'm gonna try. And I can't do it with a screaming little girl."

"Give her here, Darry, I'll watch her. Go on, Two-Bit."

I walked over to the building thinking all the time how I was gonna get in without being noticed. Kids didn't normally go into the drugstore by themselves. It'd look weird and there'd be too many questions. Then my saving grace pulled up in an old Ford. As the mom and her two kids walked in, I joined them like I was part of the family. As soon as I was inside the door, I split off and went to the wound care section. I grabbed a couple bandages and stuffed 'em in my waistband. Then as I was shadowing the other family, I ducked back and grabbed some salve. The salve went into my shoe, and I joined the family just as they were walking out the door. Just outside, I broke into a run across the street back to the others. Stealing like that was easier than I expected. All you gotta do is wait for a good distraction.

I dove behind the bush and saw that Lily had calmed down some and was sitting in a shirtless Soda's lap. His shirt was wrapped around Lily's head and she was sucking on a corner of it.

"It was bleeding too much," he explained, "The shirt was messed up anyway."

I shrugged and we headed back to the lot. I unwrapped her head and looked at the dried, bloody wreck.

"We gotta clean that up," Darry said, "I got an idea."

He ran toward the house and came back a minute later.

"Here," he said and tossed me a can of beer. I just stared at him.

"To clean her head up with, Dummy. It's got alcohol in it, don't it? Alcohol's s'posed to kill the germs so she doesn't get sick."

We got her cleaned up. She looked like a younger, cuter version of The Mummy, but it was clean and it had mostly stopped bleeding.

Later that night, I put Lily to bed and climbed into my own. Momma came in late after work and checked on us like normal. She took one look at Lily, "Lord in Heaven! Keith, I know you're awake. What in blazes happened to your sister? And why does she smell like a brewery? Start explaining, Mister."

I'd prepared for this almost since the moment Lily'd started crying. I wove a tale of trying to clean juice off the kitchen floor and Lily wanting to come play and slipping on the wet floor and hitting her head on the cabinets. When she'd slammed into the counter, she knocked off an old can of beer Frank had left up there. It wasn't a bad one, one of my better ones actually. I kept it just real enough that she bought it. Mostly.

I stuck to the house for the next two weeks and played it extra careful. You could say that it was because I'd learned my lesson. Really though, I didn't have much else to do. Darry had been grounded because Mr. Curtis thought he was drinking when he noticed the missing beer. Soda had also been grounded when he couldn't explain where his shirt went. Told you they were good friends. I watched your Aunt Lily a little closer after that. I kinda got used to it. It's nice to have something real to care for sometimes.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 - I Still Don't Understand

Within a few years, the Curtises and I added another kid, Steve Randle, and once in awhile we'd let Ponyboy join in on our escapades too. Usually that was because we were bored and the kid was fun to mess with sometimes. Couldn't do too much with Lily being a girl and still little and all. Pony could take a bit more rough and tumble. That kid could keep his mouth shut pretty good too. Besides, Darry wasn't too comfortable with Lily. I think it had something to do with the scar on her forehead. It wasn't really his fault or nothin', but he felt it was I guess.

I was 12 at this point. Us older boys had decided to get together behind the school one afternoon. Steve said he had a surprise, so we all told our parents that we were all going over to each others' houses. I'm kinda surprised how often that worked actually. Well, maybe not. Momma wasn't home too much and Frank was either gone or didn't care. Steve's momma was sick and needed quiet, and his dad was a right nasty piece of work. Mrs. Curtis was about the only one that might have legitimately noticed. Her philosophy was pretty much one of "natural consequences". You do something dumb; you pay the price, so you'd better use your head and don't come cryin' to me. I always respected that about her.

Well anyway, we all gathered behind the building where there was a little nook that couldn't be seen by the playground or the road. You don't have that luxury, Danny, there's always a damn camera around. Every square inch covered for the sake of security. It's creepy. Back then, we could actually find a little something called privacy. Steve pulled us in close with a real sly, cocksure grin and slowly produced a pack of cigarettes from his jacket. Soda knew what was comin' since he and Steve were thick as thieves even then, so he was grinnin' almost as big.

"Got 'em out of my old man's drawer this mornin' after he left for work," Steve announced in a whisper.

"Hey, it was my idea," Soda nudged him. "My daddy don't keep any extras. He usually just has the pack or two on him otherwise I woulda brought 'em."

"What are we gonna do? Talk about 'em like a bunch of old church ladies bickering over pot pies, or smoke 'em?" I broke in.

We each took one and alternated between staring at them and staring at each other silently daring each other to be the first to light up.

"Hey Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, either of you think to bring a lighter?" Darry finally asked.

Steve and Soda just stared at each other, and I started rolling on the ground laughing my ass off while the two started launching all sorts of colorful curses at each other. After a few minutes, some punches, and headlocks, Darry hauled me up.

"See what you can do, Two-Bit. I'll see about keeping these two alive until you get back."

I shrugged and headed toward the street. The store was too far away, and they kept their lighters locked up pretty tight anyway. Too many of 'em grew legs and walked off I suppose. So, I needed another plan. Buck's was close. Not exactly what you want near a school, but hey, no law against it. I was sure there'd be a few day drinkers in there, so it seemed by best option. People are always more willing to part with things when they're drunk. Don't take a genius to realize that.

I slid inside the door. It's gone now, but Buck's was a low dive. Half party house, half bar, and half a halfway house. Most of the people in there most nights were either halfway outta prison or halfway back in it. The day guys we're calmer. Most of them were a mix of truckers or old drunks who've long since given up hope of holding onto any kind of job. A few steps into the door and Buck's day manager called to me from the bar.

"Get your ass outta here kid. I ain't gettin' hauled in on a charge of underage over the likes of a pipsqueak like you. 'Sides, ain't you Frank's stepkid? He'll tan your hide if I tell 'im you've been in here."

I figured I'd get caught pretty quick. Not really anywhere to hide, so I went with it.

"Now, Mr. Bartender, Sir," I began, "I ain't here to drink. I'm here to appreciate the lovely architecture of this here building. Just look at the fine example of a 1902 beam you got there holding up that sign. Why if the county knew about this, they'd mark it as a historical treasure…"

By this time I'd worked my way over to the bar a few feet away from the guy.

"And this here bar, well look at the craftsmanship on it. I might want to make something of myself one day and go into carpentry so I can make pieces just as fine as this…"

The bartender was at his limit and he was coming around the bar, so I hopped up on top and placed myself neatly next to the bowl of matchbooks they had for sale. I kept talking all the way until my ass hit the sidewalk, but it didn't matter. I had what I needed.

I hoofed it back to the school and found that Soda and Steve had made up and were having a good natured arm wrestle with Darry as the referee. I flicked the book and hit Steve square in the forehead. That brought forth another stream of curses as he lost the match to Soda. Steve probably had the worst mouth of our bunch. None of our tongues were exactly angelic by this point, but he took more pride in it than most. A minute later we'd all lit up. About five seconds after that, we were hacking like a bunch of 90 year olds dying of pneumonia. Darry was the only one to tap out though. To be fair, he did finish the cigarette.

"I got football tryouts next week, and I ain't gonna blow that by not bein' able to breathe 'cause of a dumb weed." When Darry Curtis has an explanation for something he does like that, it ends the conversation. You don't get to change his mind.

We gave him a little good natured ribbing, but he had a good enough explanation and didn't completely wimp out, so we let him go. The three of us left endeavored to finish the pack. We did and probably too quickly at that, because Soda started puking almost the same time he finished the last puff of his last cigarette. I didn't feel so good either, and Steve looked about as green as I felt. Didn't matter though. You know me, Danny, and you know those definitely weren't the last cigarettes I ever smoked. At the time, it was just what you did. People didn't think too much about it.

I got home and it was a rare occurrence: Momma, Frank, and Lily were all home. Frank was reading the newspaper with his own cigarette lit between his teeth and a beer on the end table next to him. I swear that guy spent more on beer than he did on a whole month's rent. He barely acknowledged my entrance, but looked up when I started coughing. Still some residual effects.

"You gettin' sick, Boy? Better not be bringin' anything nasty into this house. Can't afford it." He continued to look at me and his gaze grew more and more skeptical, "Come here," he said finally.

I walked over to him slowly. He could smell it even over his own smoke. He could tell the look on my face because he'd probably done the exact same thing somewhere about my age.

"You been smoking, Boy? Don't lie now."

He pulled me close by the front of my shirt and his cigarette was about an inch from my face. It took all my willpower not to vomit all over the man, but that definitely would not have helped my situation.

"You stealin' from me so you and all your little pussy friends can go around smoking and acting like big tough men? I've been noticing my cigarettes have been going missing. Think I can't count? You stealin' from me?"

The hypocrite. He was smoking right in my face, and I'd never stolen a damn thing from him. I wasn't feeling good and I'd had it, so instead of puking all over him, I threw up the truth straight in his face.

"I ain't stealing from you ya fat drunk. You're just to dumb and soused to even realize and count how much you actually smoke you…" and I proceeded to call him every name I'd held back for the last few years.

He backhanded me and hauled me to the kitchen table. Then he jammed his cigarette right in my mouth. Honest to God don't know how I didn't puke at that, but I didn't. Momma tried to step in, but she was quickly silenced.

"Shut the hell up, Rosie. I'm teachin' the boy a lesson."

The fight she'd had with Ted was gone. The guilt, the endless work, and Frank had just about stomped that spark clean out of her. She went back to making dinner and couldn't hardly look at me.

Frank sat there and made me smoke straight through 2 full cartons end to end. I was about the sickest I've ever been and probably should've gone to the hospital. Too much nicotine. Too much tar I wasn't used to. It took me every bit of 2 whole days to feel decent again.

I laid in bed that night between wretches and Momma came in. Frank must have been asleep in his chair. She never came in when he was awake because he'd chew her out something awful about mollycoddling me and making me soft. I didn't want to talk to her, so I faced the wall. She sat down next to me and rubbed my back for a minute. I'll admit that felt good, but on principle I couldn't let her know it. I was mad at her. She sighed and gave up. Just as she got to the door, I asked her the question I'd wanted to ask her since the day she married Frank.

"Why can't we leave him, Momma?"

She paused.

"You'll understand when you're older."

I still don't understand.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7 - Hello and Good Riddance

I didn't spend too much time at home as it was, but about the same time as the weed fiasco, I made it a point not to be home at all if Frank was. Momma didn't like that I stayed out most of the time, but she understood. She couldn't find it in her to stand up to Frank, but at the same time she did care about me even if she couldn't show it. I guess she figured I might be safer outside than in. I was pretty streetwise and had places I could go if I needed.

Darry knew most of what was goin' on, and Soda figured out a bit, but stuff like that wasn't exactly rare in our neighborhood. Most had some kinda shit going on in their families. Hell, even the Curtises weren't perfect. Mrs. Curtis was always peeved at Mr. Curtis because he spent twice as much time at work as he did at home. They tried to hide it, but some of those nights things could get pretty heated between those two. One exceptionally cold night when I was 14, I'd invited myself into Darry's room and we started to hear those two go at it. Mrs. Curtis was really up in a lather and not too long later, we heard a good crash. Darry just rolled over and put his pillow over his head. I crept out of the room and peeked around the corner of the living room to see a big puffy white cloud. It would appear that Mr. Curtis had to dodge himself a flying flour jar. It wasn't two minutes later and those two were laughing their heads off while rolling in the whole mess of it. They fought hard, sure, but they usually made up for it with just as much fire. Now that I could deal with. It was a fair fight and they both had skin in the game. The fight at my house wasn't fair. One fighter had given up, and the other kept beating her down anyway. It wasn't right.

For about a year, I threw myself one giant pity party. I got in a lot of fights, got mean, and started drinking. Made a real ass out of myself and not in a good way. Fourteen year olds ain't the most stable creatures around anyway even without the addition of alcohol. I don't talk much about that year. It was one of the worst ones in my life, and I'm lucky it didn't kill me. I'd pick fights with anyone around and even my friends if no one else was available. Spent more than a few nights in Juvie too. After showing up at the Curtis house smashed up one too many times, Mr. Curtis took me out back. Told me I couldn't come around anymore if I was drunk. Said he couldn't have it around his boys, and I needed to shape up. He didn't need to worry too much though. Darry split my lip and boxed my ears a few times that year when I acted like too much of a boozy, hot-headed jackass.

Listen, Danny, if you're looking for a reason, there ain't one. You'd think that growing up like I did alcohol would be one of the last things I'd look at. There ain't any logic in it. All I know is I met up with some rough hoods, had a few drinks because it was what you did, and next thing I know is things at home ain't looking so bad anymore. Now it ain't like I was boozed up all the time. I still went to school and there were some good times too. But most of that year was spent in anger. That's not a place I like to be. Not unless I got a real good reason.

My wake-up call came came in the form of a kid called Johnny. Johnny Cade. On one of my better days, I was kicking around the park with Darry and Pony. Pony was being too whiny, so Mrs. Curtis kicked him and Darry out so she could get some peace. Soda and Steve walked over with this tiny bit of a kid with them. He was dark and messy and looked to be about nine or ten. Most of him was covered in a conglomeration of new and old bruises and he was walking real stiff.

"Hey guys, this is Johnny. Thought he could hang out for awhile." Soda introduced him brightly like he was bringing him home for Sunday dinner. The Cade house had a reputation. We knew there was a kid, but we never really saw him till now. Steve didn't say much, just hung in the background. This was clearly Soda's idea. The kid wouldn't look at us and had his hands jammed in his pockets.

"Hey, Johnny," Darry said softly like he was afraid to spook him. I just stood there staring at the kid. There was nothing that kid could have possibly done to deserve a flick on the forehead let alone the obvious repeated beat downs he'd been subjected to. The only people I'd seen with that scared and hopeless of a look were people about to die. Actually, most of them had more hope because at least their pain was about to be over. The kid was just getting started. Johnny might as well have slapped me across the face and doused me in ice water. Just the simple action of standing there put me to shame and shook me up. What right did I have to get so pissed over my life? Frank was an abusive ass to be sure, but it wasn't even in the same league with this kid. I made it my mission then and there to put a smile on that kid's face if it killed me. Darry whacked me on the shoulder. I snapped out of my epiphany and plastered a beaming grin on my face.

"Hey, kid, what's shakin'?"

"I..I..ain't a kid," he replied stuttering in barely a whisper.

"You ain't?" I asked casually.

"How old are you?" Darry asked, "You look 'about the same age as Ponyboy."

Soda stepped up, "He's the same grade as Steve and me. So what, you about thirteen, Johnny?"

"Yeah, few weeks ago," he said as he kicked around some dust. I hid my shock pretty well. Like I said, he looked about ten. Now, I'd see it as a clear case of neglect and malnourishment. Then, to my fifteen year old self, he just looked young.

"You ain't joshin'. Well then, wanna smoke, Johnnyboy?"

"Ss...sure," he said and took the cigarette from me. A wisp of a smile crossed his face. You could tell it didn't happen very often. "But can you not call me that? That name. My… That's what my old man calls me." That's all he had to say. Like I told you, the Cade house had a reputation.

Johnny was part of our gang from then on. I think he was glad he had somewhere to go or at least someone to be with. There were some nights when Johnny and me'd bunk down in the lot or once in awhile if it got bad and Frank wasn't home, he'd come home with me. Then there were times we'd both land up somewhere in the Curtis house. What's it sailor's say? Any port in a storm?

Now I ain't gonna sit here and say meeting Johnny Cade fixed all my problems. It sure as hell didn't. But it did give me perspective. If Johnny could survive his hell of a house without becoming a monster like his daddy, I could survive mine without turning into another Frank.

As luck would have it though, I wouldn't have to put up with Frank for much longer. He was gone by the time I turned sixteen. He took up with a broad he met at a truckstop and moved out. Just came home one day and told Momma he was leavin'. Just like that. Not even an ounce of shame. He was just gone. Kinda like a twister. It sets down and does a ton of damage, and then it's just gone like it's never existed. The only reason you can tell where it was is the mess it leaves behind.

Momma told me to leave it, but fat chance of that. Remember how I told you I don't like bein' angry unless there's a damn good reason? Well, I think Frank qualified. I got Steve to go along with me, and we borrowed old Mrs. Covey's car. It was her husband's really, and she hadn't driven it since he'd died the year before. Didn't figure she'd miss it. Well, Steve and I hotwired it and we tracked Frank and his woman to a little dive hotel in Okmulgee. I took my blade and ran it all around his precious truck. All the way around. It's a shame I ruined a good blade on the likes of that bastard. It was one of my favorites, but I guess it was worth it. After that, I tossed the damaged knife to Steve who was still in the car so I wouldn't be tempted to rack up a charge of homicide in addition to the property damage. I walked up to the door and knocked real calm-like. As soon as the sorry ass showed his face, I took years worth of loathing and popped him right in the face with the hardest punch I've thrown in my life. I shattered his nose and made him take a chunk out of his lip. The police picked us up before we even made it back to Tulsa, and I spent some time in the reformatory for that adventure. It was worth it. I don't really think the judge even blamed me.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8 - The Gang's All Here

With that chapter of my life closed out, things began to change. I still ran around half-crocked all the time, but I wasn't always stompin' around looking for a fight. Things started being fun again. Not always legal, but that was half the fun. Right?

Everyone on the East side knew me, Soda, Steve, Johnny, and Darry travelled around as a set by now. We drew some attention. I'd gotten held back a year, so I was newly sixteen and a repeat freshman. I got hell for that. Steve and Soda would never let it go that one more screw up and we'd all be equals. I didn't much care though. If that actually did happen, worst that'd come out of it is that I'd get to hang around more with people I actually liked. Maybe they could even do my homework for me. Who was I kidding though? Soda didn't even really do his own. At least not well anyway. If I learned anything, if you're gonna cheat, at least cheat off someone who's kinda smart. But you gotta be careful, Danny, you can't go too smart because then the teacher gets wise and your ass is busted. Not the end of the world, but it did interfere with weekend plans if you got yourself thrown in Saturday school. I'd perfected the art of slacking with a flair.

In American History that year, I was assigned a project. We had to research a famous person from the 18th or 19th century and create a presentation on our findings. Of course I had no interest in the actual research part, and I figured I could wing the presentation. Miss Pike was pretty young, and I could talk my way out of most things with her by making her smile. Let's just say she was about the only thing I really studied in that class.

So anyway, it was my turn to present. I got up, dramatically started clearing off Miss Pike's desk as she's just lookin' at me with her eyebrows all knitted tryin' to figure out what I'm up to. When I was done, I whistled and barked out "Alright, men! All aboard!". The poor saps I'd weaseled into helping me gathered around and sat on the edges of the desk with me up front and center. You see, I'd decided to reenact George Washington on his way to Valley Forge. You know, that painting of Ol' Georgie standing in the front of the boat that's on the front of almost every history book? That was my research. The cover of my textbook and the caption that went with it.

"Faster, Dogs!" I screamed as most of my conned classmates were regretting their poor choices. But there were some of my type that were living it up with me. They were paddling that desk boat with gusto.

"To the Valley! And heave!" I barked as I pulled the cigar I'd lifted from a guy that morning on the way to school out of my jacket pocket. I lit the thing up, clenched it between my teeth, and kept barking out orders. This went on for about two or three minutes until Miss Pike gathered her wits enough to stop me. When she asked for an explanation, I ran with it.

"Well, Miss Pike, I thought I'd give the people a cinematic type experience. You know, let 'em feel like they were really there with Mr. Washington. And the cigar here? Well, that was a personal connection. Those fellas looked mighty cold, so wouldn't you think they'd want something to keep 'em warm? Now, I know Georgie seems more like a pipe guy, but a cigar was the best I could do. I'm terribly sorry, and I understand if you have to take points off for that."

Miss Pike gaped her mouth for a bit. She looked like a fish outta water, but a fish with gorgeous red lips. She was fun to mess with and get all bothered.

Finally she stuttered out, "Do… Do you even know where Valley Forge is, Mr. Mathews?"

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, not exactly. But I'd reckon it's near a mountain or two. You and I could take a trip there so I could learn if you're willing."

She just turned redder and shook her head.

"Sit down, Keith. Mr. Peters, you're next. Please redeem my classroom and remind me why I chose this profession."

"No, Ma'am!" James called back, "I ain't following that."

I just sat back in my seat and finished my cigar.

Messin' with teachers was just part of the fun. Like I said before, our group had gotten a reputation. Soda and Steve had made a bet one day with a Junior named Grizzy Clark. Grizzy had called them a pair of candyassed pansies followed by some colorful gesture alluding to Steve and Soda bein' well… bein' closer than just friends. The two bet him that our gang could whip him and his friends. Losers had to get a haircut. Grizzy and his bunch were greasers like us, so that was a serious bet.

"Awww, come on Darry, you gotta fight! We'll get stomped good if you don't! You've seen Clark," Soda begged.

"Shoulda thought about that before you agreed to a fight, Dumbass. You gotta death wish or something?"

"Really, Darry? I thought you liked to fight. Didn't you just give Cole Stephens a black eye last week cause he called you a fake? You can't let trash like Grizzy Clark get away with callin' your little brother a queer. Come on, Darry!"

"All right, all right," he gave in. "But you're gonna have to learn some better moves, and you'd better not get me caught. I've got a date with Susan Dasher this weekend, and I wanna actually make it. Paul's even letting me borrow his car."

With Darry in, it made it official. I was in from the start. A rumble was always a good time. Darry and I would carry most of the weight, but Steve wasn't bad, and Soda was gettin' more useful. It was better if he was mad and took it seriously. If he was in his normal, goofy mood, he'd just dance around whoever was trying to get hold of him. He wouldn't do any damage, he'd just make 'em real mad so they were royally pissed by the time Darry or I got over to actually take them out.

Well, meetings were had, insults were thrown, and threats were made, but eventually we decided the rumble would take place in three days under the railroad pass at midnight. I know it sounds all dramatic, but really it just came down to practicalities. Those of us who had parents who bothered to give a shit would be asleep by then so we could sneak out. I'd classify myself in that group by this point. I'd started staying home a lot more now that Frank was gone. It's kind of a wonder what sleeping in your own bed can do for the disposition, Danny.

Anyway, Darry wanted to protect his own face and the rest of ours I guess, so he declared us "in training" for the next few days. He'd come home from football practice, throw down whatever was handy in the fridge and drag Soda out to the lot. The rest of us were expected to be there. I went mainly just for the fun of watching big, tuff, half-soc Darry slapping around his little brother while all the time said little brother is making a huge joke of it all. Darry knew I didn't need any help fighting. I just sat back with a six pack heckling them and chucking the empties at them so they could dodge 'em. Pony and Johnny were there watching with me, and the whole time Pony was squirming so much I finally kicked him off the old bench I'd taken from the park and installed in the lot. Just in case you're wondering, the benches in the park are all chained down now. I might've had something to do with that. Soda and I'd stacked all of them on top of a parked police car one night just for the fun of it.

Anyway, I kicked Ponyboy off, and he and Johnny went off and came back a minute later.

"We're fightin' too, Darry."

Darry paused cold in the middle of the slow motion body slam he had Steve in. Steve fell flat on his ass and proceeded to launch a torrent of beautiful names at both Ponyboy and Darry. They weren't listening.

"Like hell you are, kiddo."

"Johnny and me ain't kids, Darry. You've been fightin' since you were ten. I'm twelve and Johnny's almost fourteen."

"I had more muscle at ten than the two of you have combined now. You'd get snapped in half like a twig and then I would too 'cause Dad would light my ass up when he found out I let you."

Pony wasn't done with the fight, "You always say that it ain't just muscle, half of a fight is the strategy. I'm smart, Darry, I can do strategy."

Darry looked like he wanted to strangle the kid. Then a look of utter defeat washed over his face right before he picked Pony up and somersaulted him into a full pin.

"Alright, Buddy Boy, you win. But you'd better listen and learn because if you get me in trouble, I'm showing any girl you ever bring home that string of awful bath photos Ma took when you were little."

I couldn't resist anymore. It didn't matter to me if Ponyboy fought or not, so I moseyed on over to the action.

"Hey, Darry, I've seen those photos, Man. You're in 'em too."

He just looked up at me from where he had Pony pinned in the dirt.

"Et tu, Brute?"

I grinned back and tossed him a beer. Darry only drank occasionally, but he took that one. Drained it in about 10 seconds.

"Alright, traitor, you get Johnny. Make sure he don't get himself killed."

The next night, we all met in the lot. Steve and Soda were running around like jackrabbits and Pony and Johnny were smoking and trying to seem calm. They couldn't fool anyone. Johnny kept dropping his weed and Pony couldn't keep his feet still. I challenged Darry to a mock fight and then we brought Pony and Johnny in to get 'em warmed up. A nervous fighter is a hurt fighter. That's why I'd always get half soused before a rumble. Still coordinated enough to fight, and nothing but the fight and the high really matter. There's nothing like that feeling. You feel like you can do just about anything.

We were pretty jazzed up and just about to leave when a figure vaulted over the chain link. He was wild eyed and his almost white hair was reflecting the moonlight. He reminded me then of a snow leopard or a lynx. Feral. It almost surprised me when he spoke because I half expected him to growl.

"You boys look like you got some action goin' on. What's up?" He paraded around and took Pony's weed right outta his hand and started smoking it.

"Who wants to know?" Darry asked as he moved closer to Pony and Johnny. It was just like a damn wolf fight when a lone one tries to come in. Darry, the Alpha, was tryin' to figure if his pack was safe or if he needed to take out a threat.

"Oooh, big man on campus," the guy said as he circled to counter Darry, "Name's Dallas."

The guy was too close to the boys for my liking. I'll be honest, he kinda scared the shit outta me. No telling what Dallas would do. The look in his eyes was a little unhinged, but there was a spark of excitement there like he'd either slap us on the back or put a blade in it. I moved in closer.

"You're not from around here," I stated giving him a chance to explain.

"Nope," he said with a smile as he ground out Pony's weed, "New York. Just moved here and bored to death. You fellas look like you got some action going though. If I don't bust a face here pretty soon I'm gonna blow. Need another guy?"

Darry and I communicated wordlessly over Dallas' shoulder. The guy had placed himself right in the middle of us. Most everyone would naturally position themselves where they had a way out. Not Dallas. He was right smack in the middle. No fear, no apologies. But then, that was Dally in a nutshell. Darry and I agreed. He didn't look like a liar; he just looked like a guy looking for an honest fight.

"Alright. We're heading for a rumble down by the railroad," Darry said, "There's a guy down there we take offense with and we need to set things straight."

"Weapons?" Dally inquired.  
"Nope, we don't usually roll that way around here. Once in awhile a rock or something'll find its way in, but we like skin on skin. It's more real that way. If you can't square with that, then leave."

"Nah, it's cool. I like a fist fight as much as the next guy. Who are ya's anyway? Figure I should know who I'm fighting with so I don't make a mistake and bash in one of your mugs."

His eyes were glued on Johnny. You could never read Dallas and I didn't know him yet, so I slung my arm over Johnny's shoulders. I could feel him tensed like he wanted to hide behind me, but he stayed put. Good guy. I tried to ease the tension and lighten us up. A too serious fighter is also a hurt fighter. We were all too edgy now with our new addition.

"Well," I began, "I'm Two-Bit, and this here's Johnny. Over there the big guy's Darry and the others are Steve, Sodapop, and Ponyboy."

"Are you fucking with me? Please tell me those are nicknames," Dally said with his eyes squinted and his jaw open.

"Only mine," I smiled back.

"God…" Dallas breathed and swooped in under my shoulder and scooped Johnny out, "Hey kid, he serious?"

"Yyy...yeah. Sure's shootin'," Johnny replied.

"Jesus, kid. You're about to jump outta your skin. I'm here for a fight, sure, but I ain't gonna fight you. Relax."

I pulled Dallas away from Johnny. That's the only time I ever laid hands on him like that. It was just instinct, and I'm lucky I didn't get a fist across my nose. Dallas slapped me away.

"Don't touch me, Man! Jesus."

"Get off him, Dallas. It's his first fight. You know how high nerves run before your first. 'Sides, this ain't the type of fight Johnny's used to. You're spookin' him by bein' so rough. Just take a look at him."

Dallas paused and just looked over Johnny for a minute. Taking in every bruise, every scar, and the wounded animal look in his eyes and posture. He was seeing Johnny for the first time and that's about the closest I ever saw Dallas Winston get to deciding to care. He waved Johnny over, and they walked apart from us for awhile. I never did find out what was said, but every once in awhile, their conversation was punctuated with Dally showing Johnny a jab or a block. They rejoined us, and I took Johnny back with me.

"What'dya think about him? He's pretty intense. Pretty wild. You think he's okay, or should we get rid of him?"

"Nah, I kinda like him," Johnny answered, "He's alright."

There it was. With Johnny's approval, Dallas Winston joined our gang. He'd have fit in better with some of the other outfits, but somehow he ended up with us. We fought that night and beat Grizzy's gang good. Darry was happy because his face was intact and even Pony and Johnny came through alright. They'd found it worked pretty well if both of them fought together. Sodapop had a nice cut across his chin where he'd bashed it on a rock, but that was pretty normal for him, and he'd come up with a good cover story. I took a crack at Grizzy myself and got a couple bruised ribs, but not really enough to phase me. I just looked at him in school the next day with his ear and eye all swollen and hair cut short and waved as I walked across the street to pick up Lily.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 - Yes, Sir

That was the start of a high time, Danny. High times. All carefree, childlike hijinks… Who am I kidding? We were a menace to society, but it sure was fun. I'll give you some of the highlights. Let's see… gymnastics! Yeah, that's a good place to start. Can you imagine your old grandad doing flips and handstands? Yeah, yeah, funny thought I know, but you can wipe that wiseass grin off your face any time.

Well, Darry started taking a gymnastics class 'cause he thought it looked useful. He did it for all of us really. He'd have really liked to drag us all with him, but we couldn't all afford to go, so we all pitched in and sent him solo thinking that'd be the end of it. It wasn't. We'd all get together, and he'd show us what they were teachin' him. We were a mess to tell you true. Have you ever seen anyone try to learn a forward flip? You should try it sometime and bring popcorn. We were all too proud to use any kind of padding; that'd make us pansies. So, we kept going and landing on our asses, heads, necks… anything really and looking like a group of fool clowns.

Clowns or not, Darry was right. It did turn out useful. On the ironic side, it actually got us into more fights. We typically went out to the lot, and some of the other outfits got wind of it, and we became a sort of tourist destination. Most of it was good natured ribbing and mockery, so it didn't matter much to us. Hell, we laughed at each other plenty. Once in awhile some would come in and try to make it personal. Case in point… Steve. Steve-O was cartwheeling around the lot and got turned around or misjudged or something and slammed into the old tire pile. The Tibers had shown up to watch. Took a special field trip just to see us it seems. One of 'em started pouring on Steve real good. It started out as just some light mocking, but then the guy started gettin' real sly and mean. He started bringing Steve's family into it.

"Hey, Buddy Boy. If your daddy sees you prancin' around like a fairy ballerina, he gonna beat you even harder? Maybe he'll just take you and…" I ain't gonna finish that one. He kept going, "Then when your momma hears about that, she'll probably finally kick it. Either that or she'll finally admit she's nuts and commit herself. Whatdya think, Stevie?"

Steve actually did go nuts. After he dug himself out of the tires, he launched himself across the lot and started pummeling the guy. We all just watched. You don't get in the middle of a personal fight like that. You let the guys go at each other unless it really looks like someone's gonna die because usually the fight settles whatever there is between the two. I got filled in on the bad blood between those two as we watched.

"Nate used to be from around here," Darry said,"He wasn't such a bad guy really. He and Steve used to pal around some when they were little. That's how he knows so much. It wasn't too long after you started coming around that Nate's daddy ran off and his mother picked up a cocaine habit. Social services came for him one day. He'd call us every once in awhile for a time, but he kept getting bounced all around different foster homes and institutions. Finally, he stopped calling."

"Well, I guess you can see how that story turned out."

"I guess so," Darry replied with a slow head shake.

The fight was building quickly. What started out as trading punches was now the guys slamming each other around, cheap kidney and groin shots… If they'd had blades they'd have been out. Steve had already taken a rock to the side of the head. We were all looking at each other and at the Tiber guys. It was getting too serious, and we'd almost decided to break it up, but right as we were about to move in, the fuzz decided to show. Now, they didn't like us at our best. And this was not our best. The officers were out of the car and the clubs were out laying into all of us before the car had even fully stopped. They didn't care that it was only Steve and the other guy. They just saw a gang of hoods fighting. They lived by the motto: Knock heads around and ask questions later if you feel like it. They usually didn't feel like it.

Steve, the other guy, a couple Tibers, and Dally got hauled off in cuffs. One of the cops backhanded Johnny across the face, so Dal went after him. The rest of us got to keep our freedom with a bunch of bumps and bruises to remind us of police generosity. I got a good whack across the kneecaps that took me down for a couple days. Steve got out of the slammer in a couple weeks. When we saw him next, he was even more messed up. Those cuts across his face and on the back of his head weren't from the fight or lockup. He got those from his daddy. He'd never say so, but we all knew.

That was par for the course. We got in rumbles with other gangs and had our scrapes with the fuzz. But in the middle of it, we got to be our high on life dumb as shit teenaged selves. One Friday afternoon Soda and me were on the way home from school. After being cooped up all day, we were going a little stir crazy. Neither one of us was good at sittin' very long, and it'd been a long week. Then we spotted little Lewis Brown kneeling down to tie his shoe.

"Dare you," was all I said and Soda took off. The dare wasn't necessary. Soda was gonna do it anyway. Well, he took off like a shot and vaulted straight over the poor kid. Kid never saw it coming. I took off after Soda, and we were laughing like lunatics leapfrogging each other down the sidewalk. We paused for a second at the corner of Iron and Morgan.

"I betcha you can't make it across the street on your hands," he dared me with his wild dog grin. I pulled a can of Budwiser out of my backpack, pulled the tab back and considered the street for a minute before I tossed Soda my bag and the beer.

"I'll take that," and I flipped myself up.

I was an idiot, Danny. A pure and simple idiot. But I have to tell you, there's no rush like it. I was higher than a kite. That's what I like about Soda. He was always up for a good rush and about the only one as crazy as me. Well wonder of wonders, I made it across. From the other side of the street, Soda let out a whoop of approval, downed the last half of the beer, and dashed across the street himself. One car almost got him and he had to hop on the hood. The little church looking grandma in the driver's seat started screeching the loudest torrent of four letter words you've ever heard. Even I was impressed. Soda joined me laughing like a hyena, and we continued on our way.

A couple blocks later we'd paid off a couple little kids with a penny to carry our bags as we kept acting like goof offs. As we were flipping down the sidewalk and swinging from the barber shop's fire escape, a cop car pulled up. Those little hoods in training didn't warn us, they just dropped our bags and beat it. We didn't see the car until it was too late.

"Boys. I need you to come down here right now."

I dropped from the fire escape and sauntered up to the officer.

"What's the problem, Officer… Officer…" I glanced at his badge as I lit up a cigarette, "Officer Caruthers?" I beamed him a thousand watt goofy grin. Soda came up beside me with his own mega grin. Both of us were used to talking our way out of tighter spots than this.

"Yeah, Sir. Is something wrong?"

Caruthers had a complete deadpan face, "I'll say so, Boy. Now straighten up when I'm talking to you, Greaseball."

That one word told us bunches. This guy wasn't going to laugh us off as a bunch of kooky kids. You'd run across all types of fuzzballs in our neighborhood. Some weren't too bad and would let most stuff go with a warning unless you were doing something particularly insane or destructive. They'd probably take those stories back to their families and have a high ol' time over their Sunday pot roast. On the other side of the scale were the ones that'd haul you in just for breathin'. No tellin' why, I guess some people just like to be cranky. Either way, they didn't like us, and we didn't like them. But sometimes you could bring 'em around if you could make them laugh. And if you couldn't, well at least you walked into the holding cell grinning like the Joker. Never beaten. It really got under their skin.

Common sense would dictate that we shut up and put on our best "Yes, Sir. No, Sir." expressions. If it'd been Darry or Steve, that's exactly what they would've done, but Soda and me couldn't always claim to possess that trait. I looked to my right through the smoke cloud, and Soda had a mirror to my own smile. It was go time, and he was gonna go down laughing with me. We both struck our best pseudo military attention poses.

"What the hell are you doin'? You think this is a joke, boys?"

"No, Sir," I replied with a dead serious look on my face, "We're just doin' like you said, standin' up straight. Thought you'd appreciate it, Officer."

"Real wise aren't you? What's your name?"

I didn't miss a beat. "Two-Bit, Sir. Now that we're on a first name basis, what can I call you Officer Caruthers? Benny? Mike? Whatcha think, Soda? I think he looks like a Benny."

"Naw, Man. I think he looks like a Jim. That chin definitely belongs on a Jim. Hey, Jimbo, you gotta light? I could really use a weed about now. All this standin's got me tense."

Most of his attention had been focused on me, but now, he switched and got real close up in Soda's face.

"No, Hood. You don't want a light from me. If I gave you a light, it'd light up that whole greasy mop of yours. It'd make a mark, and I don't like to leave marks. Feel me?"

I stepped back in and tried to hand him my already lit cigarette.

"Here ya go, Bud, take mine." It never made it there. As soon as I moved, I got a nightstick to the ribs and went down to my knees gasping.

"Gee, Soda," I went on between gasps, "Doesn't seem like he's a big fan of smoking."

"Yeah, almost like he's scared of a little weed. Hey, Two Bit, remember last month when Pony and Curly got caught burning each other with them? Hell, they wasn't scared and they's just little kids. What happened, Jimbo, you get burned or something when you was little?"

A second later, Soda joined me on the pavement with his arms twisted behind him. Even bruised and wincing, we were still laughing as much as we could.

"Alright, we're going in. We'll see how big those smiles are after spending some time in a cell. It's not like your trash parents are gonna bail you out. They need all the money they can get for drugs. Filthy white trash..."

"Aw, that'll be just fine, Sir. It'll feel just like home. My Momma put bars on my bedroom windows a long time ago. Only they ain't to keep me safe, they're to keep me out!" I snapped back and Soda and me dissolved into a fresh round of mockery as he cuffed us.

Momma left me in there overnight, but the Curtises left Soda cooling his heels in the precinct holding cell for two whole days. Tried to teach him a lesson. Although, I think the cell was a bit of a vacation for Soda. The calm before the storm. Next time I saw him, we wasn't walking straight, and Pony was glad to share the details. Ain't little brothers the best? Mr. Curtis had taken him out back and tanned the hide right off his ass. Pretty humiliating for a 15 year old, but that might have been what Mr. Curtis was after. He'd treat you like a man when you acted like one.

My real punishment came in a much different form. Momma didn't talk to me for almost a week. When she finally did, it was to tell me I wasn't going anywhere that weekend.

"Aww, Momma, I told you I was sorry. I'll try to do better."

She stopped as she was pulling on her sweater and her shoulders sank.

"I'm not punishing you for that, Keith. I've given up trying to punish you because it doesn't seem to do any good. No. You need to stay here because Lily needs someone to watch her. I had to pick up another job to pay off that fine the judge gave you. I'll be down at The Rocker."

"Aww, Momma, no. I'll get a job. I'll…"

"No, Keith! I've got this. You think I wanta go to that place? It makes my skin crawl. But you left me no choice. If you could hold a job, you would have already, but II can't have a jailbird for a son. I'd die of shame. And besides, it's not fair to your sister to leave you rotting in jail. She still thinks the world revolves around you. You might try to live up to that sometime and prove her right. She still has hope for you."

She turned around to hide the tears and left.

Lily might have had hope for me, but what Momma really meant was that she didn't.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10 - No Rhyme; No Reason

That year was rough. Not only had Momma pretty much given up on me, but I also lost the next closest things I had to parents. Mr. and Mrs. Curtis were taken in a car accident. Both of 'em gone, just like that in the blink of an eye.

It was a train that got them. There used to be a railroad crossing at Route P just outside of town. Some idiot who had no business designing railroads put in a blind turn in the tracks just before the crossing. You couldn't see anything until you were already on it. Their car must've stalled on the tracks, and that thing was ripped completely in half. Mr. Curtis was still in the car. They found Mrs. Curis a little ways away. The investigators figure Mr. Curtis told his wife to get out while he stayed and tried to move the car off. It shoulda worked, but some of the flying debris caught her and took her too. I guess they were just meant to go together. Still, that was a hard blow to take. They took out that crossing about 10 years later. That place took more than just those two. A lot of folks have been lost there over the years.

I still get sick every time I think about that night. Darry was the one to call me. Still don't know how he found it in him. I was home with Lily, and we were watching a Lucy re-run on the television. Lily loved her because she was goofy. I loved her because well, she was Lucy. I was always a little jealous of Desi Arnaz to be honest. Anyway, the phone rang, so I went to pick it up. It seemed dead on the other end. I said "Hello" a few times and started to hang up the receiver, but then I caught a faint, "Two-Bit."

"Yeah? Who is this?"

"It's Darry. Listen Two-Bit, I need you over here."

I'd never heard him like that. You've met Darry. That man is the most sure and confident person I've ever met. Always has been, even as a kid. He scared me that night.

"What's up, Darry? You don't sound too good."

"They're gone," he choked, "Just come over." Then he just hung up. That scared the shit out of me.

I threw Lily in bed and told her to stay put til morning, and I high-tailed it over to the Curtises' with a thousand thoughts crashing through my brain. Who was gone? What in the hell had happened? I didn't even knock when I got there; I just went in. I found Darry in the kitchen. He was sitting at the table curled in on himself with his head in his hands.

"You okay, Darry? I got over here as quick as I could. What's happened? You're scarin' me, Man."

He didn't move, but his eyes lifted and looked at me. Danny, you ain't seen a more chilling sight than Darry Curtis with tears in his eyes. He wasn't crying no more, but you could tell he had been.

"My parents… They're gone."

"Awww, cummon, Darry. They might be pissed at you for whatever dumbass thing you've done, but they'll be back when they've cooled off a spell."

"No, Man, listen to me dammit! They're gone!"

Then one of the most unimaginable and horrific things imaginable clicked into place.

"You mean… shit. What happened?"

"Accident."

"Pony and Soda?"

"Pony's asleep and Soda's at Steve's."

"They know yet?"

"No."

We sat there in silence for who knows how long. Felt like days. Words just don't have a place sometimes.

Then a packet of papers next to Darry caught my attention. According the the letterhead, it was from the University of Texas. Darry's number one choice of schools. Unlike the rest of us, he was actually planning on college. It was a long shot, but he said he was gonna try. I scanned enough of it to see that it was an acceptance letter. He caught on to what I was looking at.

"That paper's only useful as kindling now I s'pose."

"Why do you say that?"

"I can't go, not now. I was gonna have to work my way through anyway. Now it's impossible. Not with… You know what's ironic 'bout that? They gave me a scholarship. Not a full ride, but it was enough. I coulda made it work."

"Why can't you?" I asked, "We'll help with Pony and Soda. You can't pass that up, and they wouldn't want you to."

"No, Two-Bit, I know they wouldn't. That's why you ain't gonna tell 'em. You ain't gonna tell them that it was possible. I need to stay here. What I need to worry about now is figuring out a way to ruin my brother's lives without breaking them completely. I've gotta figure out how to keep food in 'em and some sort of roof over their heads. You dig?"

"Yeah, Darry. I got you."

We sat in silence for another small eternity.

"What're you gonna do?"

"No damn idea."

I stayed with Darry the rest of that night. Pony was the first. He woke up before Soda came home. It was awful, Danny. There ain't words to describe it. Pony was confused at first, and then he started yelling. Darry just took it all. Finally, Pony yelled and cried himself all out and curled up with Darry on the sofa til Soda came home. Sodapop caught on quick to what was happening. Too quick. He'd tell me later he felt it. Had some kind of premonition which wasn't unusual for him. Sometimes Soda would just feel something in his gut before the rest of us.

They stayed there right on that sofa for the better part of three days. Darry got up or left sometimes to take care of all the business arrangements. I didn't even recognize him. He'd always been a take charge kinda guy, but this was something else. He became an adult pretty much right there as we were all watchin'. The whole thing was surreal. I was just there along for the ride. I called Momma, and she brought over a few casseroles to get them by. We got 'em to eat a bit, but Momma coulda fed them sand for all it mattered. It's not like they tasted any of it. Really the biggest thing any of them were doing was existing. There ain't much else a person can do for awhile after they lose someone.

The morning of the funeral was bright.

"It's not right, Two-Bit," Pony said to me as we walked down to the church.

"Whatcha mean?" I asked.

"The sun. I know a lotta people are gonna say that it's such a pretty morning and Ma would like it this way, but that ain't the way I see it. I think it's making fun of us."

"Well, maybe your Momma sent this morning to you special. She did like her sunny days, didn't she? Well maybe that's what she wanted her body to see before it's buried."

"She can't see nothing, Two-Bit! She's all closed up in that stupid box!"

"Come on, Ponyboy. That's a dark place to be. You know why it has to be that way. You didn't want to see her like she was. Your memories are better. Be glad Darry took that burden for you. That sight's something that'll haunt him. You know that, right?"

Pony was tight lipped the rest of the way to the church. I think it took a long time for Pony to forgive Darry for having a closed casket funeral. Those two had a real strained relationship for a long time.

When we walked in the church, the double caskets were placed at the front altar. Sodapop'd been gone since early, and nobody knew where he went. We realized where as soon as we crossed through the doors. Mr. Curtis' casket was bare polished wood. Mrs. Curtis' was much the same, but it was absolutely covered in Queen Anne's Lace flowers. I mean mountains of it to where it almost looked like a blanket. Darry walked up to Soda who was on the front pew and put his arm around him.

"You did good, Little Buddy. She'd like that. They were always her favorite. How'd you get them all here?"

"It's best you don't ask, Darry."

"Alright. You put the car back where it belongs though?"

"Yeah, it's back where it goes. You know I ain't no car thief; I only borrow 'em."

"I know. What about Dad?"

"His work gloves and boots. The funeral guy made me leave while they did it, but they put 'em on him. He didn't like going nowhere without them boots."

"I'm sure he'll love 'em with that suit he's got on. He'll start a new trend in Heaven," Darry responded as he cracked a wisp of a smile.

I know I'm supposed to be telling you about me, Danny, but I'll explain why I'm telling you about this. Those people helped raise me. They had their faults just like any other people, but they were good people. At the time, it was all I could do to step foot in that church. Now, I've never been particularly religious, and that made it harder. Why would God take good people like the Curtises and leave good for nothing abusive assholes like the Cades? Where was the justice in that? I kept it under control for Darry and Soda and Pony, but inside I wanted to scream. I wanted to march right up to that preacher and demand answers from him at the point of a switchblade. Over the years, I've grown to understand that life just isn't fair. God takes people when their time is done here on Earth, and those of us left have to build up strength to move on. We're better for it even if it hurts. And if you don't ascribe to that belief, then it's left purely up to chance. Some people get old and some don't. There ain't no rhyme or reason. Either way you look at it, we ain't in control.

Momma and me got a little closer again after that. It's unsettling to think how quick you could lose a person. Darry had to keep going to court and have endless meetings with judges and social workers to prove he could take care of Soda and Pony. Most were okay with letting Soda stay, but Pony was just a hair's breadth away from being placed in foster care. I don't think he ever realized just how close he really came. If he did, maybe he wouldn't have been such a smartass with Darry. Momma came to as many of those meetings as she was able. It looked good if they could all see that Darry had other adults around that supported him and could help out. That made me love her all the more. She didn't have to do that. I could never find a good way to show her though. I kept doing all the same dumb stuff I'd already been doing, and she was still working herself to the bone when rightly she should have tossed my ass out on the sidewalk.

If I could go back in time, I'd smack my teenaged self upside the head and then do it again. Repeatedly and hard. It sounds so simple now to say I should have just helped out more. I should have made myself get a job and pay off those fines. I should have been more thankful. I should have stopped being such an idiot. But no. I don't think I had it in me at that point, and it fires me up to think of it now. That's why I smack you real good when I hear you sassin' your Momma. She deserves better. You got one of the good ones, Danny. Don't ever take that for granted.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 - Unpredictable

No matter what awful shit happens, life still goes on. You learn that the hard way. You don't want it to go on sometimes, but it does. Every time I went over to the Curtis house, I still caught myself expecting to be greeted by Mrs. Curtis yelling from the kitchen for me to come grab some cinnamon toast. The guys managed to keep the house running, but it was never quite the same.

Momma and I were a bit closer for a bit, but gradually I started spending less and less time at home. It got to the point where we pretty much only saw each other in passing and for an occasional dinner, and that was mostly for Lily's sake. I could see what I was doing to Momma, but I did it anyway. After seeing what the Curtises went through, I couldn't put myself at risk for that. They were real close - tight-knit I guess you'd call it. That loss just about unraveled them. If something happened to Momma, I couldn't bear it. I started building space between us. You keep people at arm's length and they can't really touch you. That's something Dal and I agreed on. We talked about it once. Only once. Sort of.

One Friday night, we went in search of some action. Darry was working, Soda and Steve were with their girls, Pony was grounded, and Johnny… well, I'm not quite sure where Johnny was that night come to think of it. Sometimes the kid would just go off on his own. Anyway, it just ended up being Dal and me. We wound up in the dugout of the little league field with a bottle of whiskey I'd won off Tim Shepard in a bet the week before. Dal was unpredictable when he was sober. When he was drunk, he was downright bipolar. He'd turn on a dime. One moment he'd be laughin' it up like the Cheshire Cat over something dumb, and the next he'd turn deadly serious with a strong undercurrent of rage. Never quite knew what caused him to make the switch. Whatever it was, it wasn't apparent to anyone watching, so it must have been in his own mind.

That night was no exception. We were swapping bull stories, climbing the backstop, wrestling, telling jokes… whatever. Then out of nowhere, he sat down on the bench with his head in his hands and just stared silently out over the dark field. His knees started bouncing and then his hands clenched. Just like one of those cartoon bombs as the fuse starts running short and it starts bouncing and flashing, then boom! He shot up and slammed both fists into the concrete. You know that hurt like hell, but it didn't even phase him.

"It's fuckin' shit!" he bellowed. Then he got quiet. Almost a whimper, "It ain't right. It ain't right. It ain't right…" he kept saying as he lightly pounded his fists against the concrete.

"What ain't, Dal?" I asked quietly. I was afraid to spook him. Drunk and in a mood like that, he'd just as easily pull a blade on me as offer me a Coke.

"None of it. You can't tell me it ain't bullshit that they're dead when sons of bitches like my old man are still parading around whole. Look at your old man. He's dead, but at least he kind of asked for it. But them? Ya' know what, Two-Bit? Mr. Curtis is the only person I ever remember who shook my hand. People… people don't do that."

"He was a good man," I agreed.

"You don't get it. Good, bad, it don't matter. Everyone leaves or dies all the same. Why bother trying to find the good ones or be good? None of it fuckin' matters. It can't hurt you none if you don't care."

"You sure look like you care," I replied.

"Well I don't, so you can shut your fuckin' pie hole," he replied as he chucked his pack of cigarettes at my face. He came and laid down on the bench next to where I was sitting and got a big grin on his face as he took a drag.

"Hey Two-Bit…" and he proceeded to delight me with a masterful joke dirty even by his standards. It was just like that whole break had never happened.

What he said made sense to me though. It's what I'd already been doing to Momma. The difference between me and Dallas though was I only shut myself off from one. He shut himself off from the whole world. Well, most of the world at least. I woke up on the dirt of the dugout the next morning to the sight of Mrs. Silvey's pursed lips and her son's giggles. See, that's why you never show up early to anything. If she'd shown up late to the game like I always did, she'd have spared her and little Freddie the unwholesome sight of our hungover asses. Dallas was draped over the bench right above me drooling in my hair.

One thing about spending less time at home was I spent more time out. Yeah, I know that sounds dumb, but follow me. "Out" is where the girls you're not related to are. Not long after the Curtises' deaths I met Kathy. She was a wild ride of a girl to be sure. By the way, don't bring up that name to your grandma. She's liable to take that iron skillet of hers to your head and mine if you do.

Now Kathy was the kind of girl a high school sweetheart should be: pretty, fun, not too serious, and borderline insane. She was a greasy girl, so we sorta grew up together bein' from the same part of town and all, but we didn't really know each other. That all changed one Saturday night when Pony, Johnny, and I were out cruising in Sheila. That was my first car. I bought an old junker for $50, and Steve and I creatively acquired enough parts to make it run. Most of the time at least. Well, she decided to run sweet that night, so I took the boys out for a burger and a cruise through town. I pulled up to a light, and all the sudden the door flies open and this blur with deep red lipstick dives in my back seat next to Pony.

"Hiya!" she giggled.

"Hi," I said as I pulled away, "You know, most people at least throw up a thumb or something. You sure you got the right car?"

She giggled again, and I start watching in what's left of my rear view mirror.

"Yep! I'll get full points for this one sure."

Johnny's sitting shotgun pretending he doesn't exist, and Pony's squirmin' in the back real good. Kathy was wearing a real short skirt and she smelled… um… Well, if I wanted anything out of this in the way of an explanation, it was gonna be up to me which I was fine with. It's not like I struggle for words on the regular.

"Points?"

"Yeah, game of dare. I had to find a car of guys to jump in with. More points the cuter they are."

Bold as brass that one. It sure got my attention and made me warm around the collar. Not that I had a collar; I was just in an old T-shirt. I flashed her a grin in the mirror and played her game.

"I think we're the ones winning this game, ain't we boys?"

No response from the peanut gallery. From their reactions, you'da thought an alien had crash landed among us. Well, in a way that's not too far from the truth. Women sure can be strange creatures. Right Danny?

"Your name's Kathy, ain't it? I'm Two-Bit. Two-Bit Mathews. And that there beside you is Ponyboy and up here is Johnny."

"I know who you are, Mathews. You don't exactly need an introduction. S'not like you keep to yourself much," she giggled again, "And these two are just darlings. If you like, we can go back and pick up a few of my friends."

Johnny damn near choked on a french fry, and to this day I've never seen Ponyboy go so red as he did that night. He mumbled something about Darry and curfew, and at the next stop sign, the two puppies bailed right out of the car. Kathy worked her way up to the passenger seat and we cruised for awhile with the radio up and eventually parked behind the theatre. Use your imagination if you care to. I was with that girl for 3 years. Almost married her actually. But she was a little… unstable and insanely jealous. It was like being on a roller coaster ride. It was exhausting, but a hell of a lot of fun. We fought a lot. Made up a lot. In the end though, we just weren't what each other wanted for life. Last I heard, she ran a pretty well-to-do cleaning business and had a couple kids, but that was like 30 years ago. Like I said, life goes on. I met your grandma two weeks after Kathy and I called it quits for good. Life sure can be unpredictable. Both good and bad. Sometimes you can't really tell if it's good or bad til later on. Not too long after Kathy and I got together, my life got unpredictable bad real sudden. Let's go fix some lunch, and then I'll continue. By now I'm sure your hand is needing a break anyway.

 _A/N : I know it's been awhile, and this is a short one. Thanks to old readers who are coming back and new readers who are just finding this. I should definitely be more regular on the updates, at least for awhile!_


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 - The Rules

Not all things in life are unpredictable. In fact, you can count on some things like a damn Swiss watch. One of those things you can count on is hate. Hate is everywhere. No exceptions. Growing up it was the Socs. They hated us, we hated them… it was a big hate fest. If it wasn't the cops, it was the Socs. Those bastards were the Richie Riches, and they knew it. Always lording their wealth over everyone else. Hell, they even did it to each other. "My daddy bought me a 60 foot yacht for my birthday" "Really? Mine is 62". Damn arrogant bastards.

You see, we just didn't get each other. Couldn't relate. And none of us had the sense to just let things be. No, Sir. We went after each other every chance we could get to pick at the wounds. There was always a score to settle. Chicken races on the freeway, rumbles down by the river, jumpings in alleyways off Main Street… Some days it felt like an honest to goodness war zone. We thought it was, and we followed certain rules just like soldiers. Rule #1: Stick together. Always have a buddy to watch your ass. Rule #2: Walk smart. Now that one is pretty open to interpretation. Some of our lot thought it meant to go out armed to the teeth. A blade in every pocket, shoe, and sock. Most of us took it a bit less extreme. We most often took it to mean "Don't be a moron". Stick to your side of town. If you notice some Socs around, stick to the shadows or join up with a bigger group. Stuff like that. But above all, don't get caught. Walk smart, walk free. Bad things happened when you broke the rules.

Most often the price for breaking the rules was a stint in the reformatory, but sometimes the cost was a little higher. Sometimes you had to pay with the proverbial pound of flesh. And sometimes they took more.

Now, we all broke the rules sometimes, and most of the time we came out fine. Johnny though… Johnny didn't. One day we were coming back from the DX and Steve-O noticed a jeans jacket laying in the empty lot. Figured it was Johnny's. It was kind of, you know, his thing. He'd even wear that thing when it was 95 degrees out. I think it made him feel safe like a suit of armor. Right off, it felt wrong. Steve figured he'd just left it, but that just didn't seem right. We picked it up and headed across the lot toward his house, but not two steps in my foot slipped. It was bone dry; hadn't rained in weeks. You ever stepped in blood, Danny? No, I don't s'pose you have. It's different. It's real slick at first, but then grabs right at the end of the slide where it gets sticky. Then we noticed the stains around the collar. My eyes popped up and I saw a dark patch at the far edge of the lot. We ran.

His face. I still get sick at the thought of it. Bruises you could see swelling up as you watched. Deep gashes. In the middle of all that blood, Danny, bone looks awful white. We all surrounded him as Soda got most of the story out of him between sobs. He broke the rules. He didn't take anyone to watch his back, and he didn't walk smart. You know the funny thing, Danny? He shouldn't have had to. That lot was less than a block from his front door. One block. He shouldn't have had to. But that's the kind of world we lived in. Most of the time we felt pretty safe in our own neighborhood, but you never knew. All it took was a single car of bored Socs, and they didn't exactly schedule their outings so we could plan ahead.

Johnny wasn't the same after that. I mean, who would be? But it wasn't the pain. Hell, I don't think he even felt it. That kid had developed a superhuman pain tolerance thanks to his piece of shit father. No, it was the paranoia. Now he couldn't even walk down the road to the Curtis house where he felt safe. There might be a car between here and there. After all, there was last time. He was a wreck.

The next day, he was sitting out on his porch when I dropped by. We'd all taken turns cutting some classes those first few days so he wouldn't be alone. I brought him some cigarettes and we sat playing poker. I wanted to make him laugh and smile, but I couldn't. I wasn't much in a laughing mood myself, and it hurt him too much anyway. In truth, I wanted to do what Dal did. I wanted to go take out every Soc I could find, but Johnny was more important right then. Dally got himself thrown in the slammer for assault. If the idiot had stopped for half a second, he would have realized that Johnny needed him, not some Soc beaten senseless out of some misplaced revenge. As I was getting ready to leave, Johnny stopped me.

"Hey, Two-Bit," he squeaked.

"Yeah, Kid, whatcha need?"

"A blade. I need a blade."

The look in his eyes right then would have been enough to make Hitler surrender single-handedly. So sure. He knew exactly what he wanted, and he was gonna get it. Asking me was just a courtesy. Most people got the impression that Johnny was soft, weak. 'Cause well, he didn't yell or get up in your face or anything. Didn't really mouth off. In truth though, he could have easily been the strongest of us. The shit he went through would break most people.

"Sure, Johnny. I'll get you a real good one. But you don't gotta worry, Man. We've got you."

"I know," he said looking up at me with only a half grin, "But I wanna have me too. Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow."

I went straight into town and slid through the pawn shop. Came out with a six inch polished oak handled beauty. Almost as nice as my Jet. Almost. That knife was in his pocket before he even put his jeans on the next morning.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13 - Lost and Found

Giving Johnny that knife was either the best thing I ever did or the worst. All these years later, and I still haven't figured out which. He did start going out again, but that blade was always in his pocket. If you watched him, every few minutes he'd brush his hand across it just to make sure it was still there.

As the weeks went by, the Socs got more restless. They were out cruising more and bleeding into our territory. More of us were getting caught in alleys. A couple of 'em nearly got me on the edge of our turf as I was coming out of the grocery store. Lily needed bread for lunches, you know? They rode my bumper all the way to my street until Tim Shepard closed in on their tail. They decided it wasn't worth it and turned off. Candyass pansies. Then it was Pony's turn. He didn't come out nearly as bad as Johnny, but he took it bad enough. Got cut up and bruised a little. He was fortunate. If we hadn't been in the right place, he could have ended up just like Johnny or worse. Now we all looked out for Johnny, but if anyone went after Pony, Darry and Soda'd have 'em strung up in a second. Now you ain't never seen those two fight, Danny, but I wouldn't want to take them on. Not when they've got a real reason to fight at least, and definitely not together. That'd have been a death wish for the poor bastard who gave them that reason. Ever since their parents died, Darry especially had taken his responsibility for taking care of Pony real serious. Soda too in his own way. Now you want to see a real animal in a fight, get Soda real hot. Darry would swing tight and knock you out. Soda'd rip your damn head off.

Well anyway, Pony was kinda shaken up, but otherwise he came out okay. I made him smile a little bit by inflating his ego a touch. I told him that he looked tough with that cut. He needed to feel some strength right then. Darry was full Poppa Bear which wasn't helping Pony just then. That's what I used to call it when Darry got all protective. Half Poppa Bear was good. Full Poppa Bear was when he turned into an ass. Damn. I haven't called him that in years. I think the last time was when his girls were teenagers. Full Poppa came out a lot then if you can imagine.

The next night, all hell broke loose. It started out good enough. I'd kicked around town and gotten half slushed and then snuck in at the Drive-In to meet up with Pony, Johnny, and Dal. Dally'd gotten sprung from prison and needed a night out, and we were happy to oblige. When I got there, I found out that Pony and Johnny'd picked themselves up a couple of Soc chicks. Who knows, maybe it was the wounded puppy look the girls were into. The boys were lookin' a little rough thanks to the Socies. I ended up having a real good time with one of those girls that night. Don't remember her name anymore, but she was half crazy. Just the way I like 'em. Hey, just because Socs in general were a bunch of stuck up icy bastards didn't mean they didn't have some intriguing females. A gal's a gal. Sue me.

As we were leaving, some guys showed up wanting to claim the gals. They were drunker than I was, but we probably still would have lost that fight if it'd come down to it. We were outnumbered, and Johnny and Pony were definitely outsized. The girls stepped in and it didn't come to blows, but we were ready. I even threw Pony a broken bottle. I wasn't thinking, and we were pretty desperate.

That night, those guys came back and caught up with the boys in the park. Some things went down real bad and one of the guys died. Johnny stabbed him, Danny. With the blade I gave him. That's one life I'm responsible for. But here's the catch… as drunk as they were, that guy. No, not "that guy", his name was Bob. Bob Sheldon. Bob was so drunk and out of control that he was gonna kill Ponyboy. Gonna drown him right in the park fountain. Even the other Socs there that night said so. So, one life lost, but it woulda been Pony's instead if Johnny didn't have that blade. It still don't feel right. That whole situation was just fucked up, and there ain't no other way to put it. And that was just the beginning.

The fallout the next morning was huge. Darry called me real early. Couldn't have been past 5:00 A.M.

"Two-Bit?" he said to me, "Is Pony with you?"

"No? Why the hell would he be here? And why the hell are you calling at this time? If Lily wakes up, I'm coming over to…"

"Shut up, Two-Bit. Fuck. You sure you ain't seen him? What about Johnny?"

"No man," I said, "I ain't seen either one of them since after the movie last night. What happened?"

I just heard Darry breathing on the other side.

"Darry? What's wrong?"

"I'm a damn idiot. That's what's wrong. And after I just jumped him for all his 'I didn't mean its'... Come over, will you?"

Well, I went over and the police were already showing up. Missing persons reports didn't get filed that quickly, and Darry sure wasn't the one to tell the police he lost his little brother. Something else was happening. Something bad. I walked through the door and one of the fuzz rounded on me.

"Who're you?" he demanded.

"He's a friend, Officer. I asked him to come over just before you came," Darry replied for me, "I thought he might be able to help."

"You did? What do you know, Kid? Rumor has it that you were with those boys last night. Maybe you helped them skip town too, eh?" The guy was staring me down. He needed a piece of gum too. Or a toothbrush.

"Hey, guys?" I asked looking to the side of him, "Wanna fill me in? Seems like I'm late to the party here, and you know how I hate to miss a party."

Neither Darry or Soda seemed like they wanted to answer, but finally Soda did.

"There was a guy killed in the park last night. Stabbed. People are sayin' Johnny and Pony did it, and now we can't find 'em. They already pulled Dallas into the station 'cause they were all at Buck's some time after it happened."

After I picked my jaw up off the floor, I sat down and gave the police a statement and answered a whole host of questions. Told 'em everything I knew about the almost fight, the drinking, the girls… They left and Dallas showed up a couple hours later.

"Where are they?" Darry demanded as he cornered him. That's the state he was in. To get Pony back, Darry was even willing to take on Dally.

"Lay off, Man!" Dal shot back as he pushed past him, "Don't know where they are right now. Alls I know is I heard my name, and they might or might not have been talkin' 'bout me."

"Shit. Texas?" I blurted out. There went me and my dumb ass brain. Spoiler, Danny, they weren't in Texas. You see, that was something kind of amazing about Dally. He could lie without actually lying. I'm good at weavin' a web or two, but with him it was effortless. He didn't actually know exactly where they were at that moment, and I'm sure they had said "Dallas" in some context the last time he saw 'em. Booksmart? No. But no one could accuse Dallas Winston of being dumb. He just sat back and watched us draw our own conclusions. Probably laughing hysterically in his own mind at his joke too.

Well anyway, I was all rarin' to go and try to get Sheila to Texas. She wouldn't have made it, but I was sure as hell gonna try. Soda was the one talked me into waiting. Nothing we could really do for them anyway. When things calmed down, they'd come back and turn themselves in. It's not like they'd really done anything wrong anyway. It was self defense and they'd come to their senses eventually he said. At least I wasn't a complete idiot and listened eventually. When in doubt, listen to Sodapop. He's usually right.

I hung around that house for the better part of a week. Mainly that was just to keep Darry from losin' his mind. What can I say, I'm a delightful distraction most days. Five days after Pony and Johnny went missing, a phone call came in. Darry and Soda were still at work, so I answered their phone. No answering machine, remember? Ye olden days where people couldn't always find you. I figured I could always pretend it was the wrong number if it was a bill collector or something. It wasn't.

"Hello? Is this Mr. Darrel Curtis? I need to speak with him in regards to a Ponyboy Curtis."

"Yes, Ma'am, this is Darrel," I replied without thinking. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

"Your brother is in South Tulsa County General Hospital. He's fine, just some minor bruises and smoke inhalation, and he needs his guardian to come and pick him up."

"Well don't that damn it all... Sorry, Ma'am. We haven't heard from him in five days. What happened?"

"The police and your brother can fill you in more. All I can tell you is that he was involved in a fire. Can we expect you soon?"

"Yes! We'll be there. Wait, Ma'am. Is there another boy? One that came in with him. His name's Johnny. Johnny Cade."

"I'm not at liberty to give out that information, Mr. Curtis. It's against hospital policy."

"Please, Ma'am," I begged, "He's family too. He ain't got the last name, but he's family. Please."

There was silence for a few seconds on the other line. I guess I was convincing because then I heard, "There were two other people admitted to the burn ward this afternoon. That's all I can tell you."

"Wait... two?" I tried to ask, but she'd already hung up.

I pushed Sheila hard to get to Darry's work site.

"Darry!" I yelled, and barely let her stop before I ran out, "They found them!"

He cried. Darry Curtis cried.

Then he threatened me that if I told anyone he'd cried, he'd come beat the daylights out of me. Feel free to tell him I told you. See if he feels the need to come make good on that threat.

Pony was fine. Pretty worked over, sure, but overall he'd be alright. Johnny didn't come out so well again. That kid had some of the worst luck. Never could catch a break. He took a burning beam across his back and he was crushed and burned over most his body. A body shouldn't live through that. Dallas was the other one the lady on the phone had referred to. He wasn't too bad off, but he did have some pretty good burns that you know had to hurt like hell, so they wanted to keep him. Unfortunately for them, Dallas Winston didn't like to stay put when you told him to. Pretty much gave them hell the whole time he was there.

What had happened was that Dallas had hidden the boys up in some old church to get 'em away from the cops. While they were up there, they decided to do a little redecorating and lit the whole damn thing up. Some little kids got caught up in it all, and the guys felt they had to save 'em. After all, it was their fault. We've always kept that pretty quiet. All the kids ended up alright, and it wouldn't have done any good for them to come after Pony and Johnny for it. Between the guilt and the injuries, the price those two were paying was already high enough.


End file.
